


Made A Pig's Ear Of That One

by Jellyfiggles



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamteam - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Communal Bathing, Culture Shock, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Forced Marriage, Forced Piercings, Interspecies Relationship(s), Language Barrier, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Minor Character Death, Minor Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Smut warned for at the beginning of chapters, Tenderness, Teratophilia, The Nether (Minecraft)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfiggles/pseuds/Jellyfiggles
Summary: Sapnap accidentally proposes to a piglin and discovers they take marriage very seriously.Very seriously indeed.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin/Piglin ocs, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)/Piglin
Comments: 319
Kudos: 1260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In one of his streams, Sapnap joked that he wanted to marry a piglin for giving him ender pearls. Somehow that evolved into this dsfsdf

He hadn't spared the words a second thought. He'd been so wrapped up in the excitement of gaining ender pearls that he'd just blurted them out. And with his friends well, it would have been taken as the joke it was, especially considering Dream and George were already a well-established item by this point.

"I love this guy! I'm gonna marry this guy!" 

The piglin, who’d been busy examining the gold bar he’d thrown down to it paused and blinked up at him, ears twitching as it stared. And those white eyes were a little creepy he wasn’t gonna lie. It gave a confused snort, tilting it’s head before slipping the gold into it’s inventory, eyes still trained on Sapnap as it began climbing out of the hole he’d knocked it into.

Sapnap chuckled nervously, backing up as it approached. “H-hey big guy, I have more gold if you want it? He glanced down for a second, nope he was still wearing his gold boots, and he hadn’t attacked it so why was it- he jerked his head up and gulped when the piglin drew closer, towering over him. It must be at least a head taller if not more.

It snorted again and then, with a suddenness that has him stumbling back, it reached for him with both hands. He almost fell over the uneven netherrack underfoot, dropping his shield as his arms pinwheeled for balance, but was stopped by the hands gripping his armour. The piglin studied him, and up close he could see it’s eyes weren’t fully white, it had very pale golden pupils. 

Sapnap gulped and he realized how vulnerable he was, his shield was on the ground and his sword was in it’s sheath at his hip. The piglin drew even closer and he felt it’s breath on his face as it exhaled through it’s snout. “Dude what do you  _ want _ ?!” He couldn’t stop himself blurting out, trying to be demanding but his tone just gave away his nerves.

The piglin gave out a series of snorts, seemingly agitated. It set him back on his feet but it’s eyes never left his.

Sapnap blinked, shaking his head, “sorry my guy, I can’t understand you, like at all.” He held up his hands placatingly before he slid his leather bag off his back, reaching in for the remaining gold nuggets. “It’s fine dude, you can have these, thanks for the ender pearls.” Sapnap chucked them onto the ground and watched as the piglin looked over in interest.

In the moment of distraction he backed up and reached down for his shield. Okay this had been weird but now he just needed to head elsewhere and find another piglin to get the rest of the pearls. He stepped backwards and scanned the area around himself and the piglin gave a loud snort, almost a scream.

Sapnap jerked his head to see it had abandoned the gold, and if he hadn’t been panicking he’d have been floored by that. He froze as his ears picked the unmistakable thuds and snorts of it’s brethren and Sapnap whipped his head around in panic as they surrounded him.

They grabbed him and Sapnap yelled, struggling as they wrestled away his shield and his sword, leaving him completely defenseless. The piglin, the one who started this all, is snorting and gesturing, glancing between him and the rest of the group. There’s murmured little grunts and a few shriller squeals from around him and he shrinks under all their accusing stares. 

There’s a long pause as the piglin’s grunt to each other and then he’s passed to the now-familiar piglin and he yelps as he’s thrown over it’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He considers kicking before he realizes two piglin brutes were in front of him, their weapons drawn and ready. “What did I do?! Come on, let me go?!” the piglin ignored his yell, one hand gripping the back of his thighs, keeping him in place.

Sapnap feels like he should be more surprised when they begin walking and he ends up gripping the thin brown leather the piglin is wearing. He’s glad they left him his bag at least and haven’t forced him to empty his inventory, but he feels horribly defenseless nevertheless.

They take an uneven path downwards, the piglin’s hand shifts a little for a better grip and he can’t help the little jerk and mortified heat that flashes through his cheeks when it rests on his ass. He would’ve yelled about it but there’s the unmistakable and terrifying whimper of a Ghast somewhere out in the mist and he holds his breath. The large creatures don’t generally attack other mobs in the Nether, but they might attack  _ him _ .

Sapnap feels a wave of heat as they pass a large crack in the wall, lava spitting deep within it. He puffs out a breath, listening to the thuds of their feet and trying to avoid the stares of the two piglin brutes walking behind the one carrying him. He’s honestly still trying to work out what he did wrong, as far as he’s aware he followed all the bartering rules… wear gold, don’t attack the mob and offer some gold and take the trade. And yet he’d angered them so much they’d kidnapped him?!

He barely has the time to fully register this thought before they’re clambering up onto darker stone and it takes him a moment from this perspective to see they’re trudging over a Bastion bridge. Sapnap sees the Ghast in the difference and grips the piglin’s tunic in panic, but the large mob just glides off into the mist and he exhales in relief, “Phew.”

Piglin brutes snort as they pass and he feels his stomach churn a little, he’s so defenseless and if they decide to attack all he could really do is run, and he can’t do that while being held. The heat of the Nether drops as they descend into the Bastion and his body shivers just a tad. It’s hardly the cold shock that he feels coming from the Nether to Overworld but it’s still noticeable.

Finally they pass through a door and he’s set down and pushed into a chair. Sapnap blinks, feeling small as the group stand around, snorting to each other and giving him glances. He’s never seen a room like this before when exploring the Nether Bastions, it reminds him of the houses of cartographers and librarians of the Overworld villagers, the walls are lined with leather-bound books and the table he finds himself sitting at is covered with parchment, the kind made from drying animal skins, and bottles of ink.

The door opens once more and the group part to let an older, wizened piglin through. He wore a furred cloak about his shoulders and shuffled slowly to the table, stepping behind it to survey the room. His eyes came to rest on Sapnap and he snorted curiously. Sapnap leaned back in the chair and felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looks up to see the familiar piglin standing beside him.

The piglin begins snorting and gesturing once more, pointing at him and the elder piglin nods along. Sapnap feels his anxiety rising, what had he done?! And then the elder piglin reaches for some parchment and begins writing slowly and Sapnap blinks in surprise as he realizes the cursive is in his own tongue. His heart races, his hands twitching as he grips his knees, he just wants to know what’s going on.

The old piglin swivels the parchment and pushes it towards him so he can read with an impatient grunt and he leans over. As he read Sapnap felt his eyes getting wider and he jerks up, trying to get to his feet but the piglins around him grunt threateningly and he slumps back again. “Listen there’s been a misunderstanding, I was just  _ joking _ , you know?” he gestures desperately, trying to laugh but it comes out awkward and hollow.

The piglin next to him gives a slow squeak and it sounds oddly hurt. This is followed by angry snorts and grunts from around the room and Sapnap cowers in the chair, his arms half lifted to protect his head. The elder piglin silences them with a sweep of his arm and a shrill squeal and then he turns back to Sapnap and glares. He taps furiously on the parchment with one claw, stabbing into it and causing a tear and Sapnap swallows as he peers down, reading the words fully.

“ _ Human, you have proposed a bond of marriage to one of our tribe. Marriage is sacred to the Piglin people, it is never an oath or proclamation to be taken lightly. For us, marriage is precious, it is usually only after a long courtship that it is ever proposed and therefore it is often a bond never broken. There may be confusion for our ways are different, but you have pledged yourself to this Piglin and you must honour it. _ ”

He chokes out a hollow bark of laughter and grips the edge of the table. “L-look I’m sorry I joked about something so important to you guys but I.. come on..” he bit his lip and gestured to the elder piglin imploringly. “I’m not ready to get married, I’m not sure if I even want-”

The older piglin squealed again and scribbled something on the parchment before holding it up in front of his face. Sapnap gulped as he read the much messier scrawl out loud, his voice trembling, “Penalty for breaking the promise for such a sacred bond is d- _ death _ ?!” He gaped at the elder piglin and there were affirming grunts from around the room. “Ca-can’t we work this out?” 

The piglin brutes around the room grunt threateningly and brandish their weapons and the elder piglin slammed his hands on the table. He snorts again harshly, eyes shining in the dimly-lit room and Sapnap can’t help the embarrassing whimper of fear he lets out. 

A hand presses to the table and the familiar piglin steps closer, creating a bit of a barrier between Sapnap and the elder piglin. His snorts and grunts are softer, placating, and they seem to soothe the older piglin a little. He huffs and his eyes move from Sapnap to the piglin and then he snorts before taking up the ink and pen once more.

Sapnap swallows as he’s passed the parchment, reading out loud once more, “uh, your husband has proposed a compromise, you will remain here for a month as his spouse and if at the end of the month your feelings remain the same, he will allow you to break the marriage bond… wait really?!” He blinked up at the familiar piglin, noticing that it (he?) had a little bite mark out of one ear, an old scar.

The piglin nods at him, his eyes sincere. Sapnap looks down at the parchment, rereading the words over and over. This is nuts… but he doesn’t have a choice. And his friends aren’t likely to come looking for him any time soon and there’s no way he can fight his way past so many of them with just the half-broken pickaxe in his bag. He sighs and meets the elder piglin’s gaze. “I accept.”

The piglin he’s now apparently married to gives a joyful squeal, gripping his shoulder and there are murmurs of approval from around them. The elder piglin grunts and nods, clapping his hands together before snorting to two piglins by the door. They start up and leave the room and Sapnap watches as the elder starts writing out a new parchment, writing slowly and deliberately.

As he finishes the last carefully swirled letter, the two piglins return to the room and approach the table. In their hands is a tiny wooden chest and they set it on the table with a thud. The elder piglin reaches into a side drawer on the side of the table and tugs out a small stone dish. He sets it on the table and carefully tips the ink bottle, allowing just a little to pool into the dish.

The elder makes another gesture at him and the piglin and Sapnap blinks a little, “huh?”

His piglin snorts and tugs the parchment towards him and ushers him to his feet. Piglins have three thick fingers and a thumb, tipped with a claw and he dips the tips of two into the ink and presses them to the paper. Sapnap swallows, finally realizing he’s signing the equivalent of a marriage certificate, and with a deep breath he follows suit, leaving a smaller fingerprint next to his husband’s.

The energy in the room seems to shift, hostility melting into approval and a few piglins snort excitedly until the rest join in. Sapnap rubs the tip of his fingers together, smudging the remaining ink, feeling his cheeks burning in confused mortification. The elder grunts approvingly before opening the tiny chest. Inside are two long needles, like those for sewing, and two gold rings. Sapnap squints at them a moment before he realizes they’re not full complete rings.

The older piglin retrieves a candle from a shelf and carefully holds each needle in the flame until the silvery metal turns black. And then he approaches them both. Sapnap isn’t prepared for the way his head is grabbed and he almost struggles before remembering what will happen if he refuses. He yelps as the elder piglin pierces his ear with the needle before gently, but firmly, slipping one of the rings into his ear.

Sapnap presses a hand to his ear, grunting in pain, “ _ fuck _ , why man?” He can feel blood dripping a little and it stings like a bitch. He can’t help glaring at the back of the elder as he makes his piglin husband bend over and there’s a low pained snort as he pierces his ear in turn. God he hopes after all this is over he can take it out and the hole will close up. 

The elder piglin steps back, surveying them both with a satisfied grunt, making his way slowly around the table once more, settling into the chair there. Sapnap jerks a little as his husband takes his free hand, his much larger fingers dwarfing his. He can’t help gulping, one hand still on his stinging ear and the weight of the situation starting to sink in, making his body shake a little. 

The relative quiet, and the serious tone of the room, seems to dissipate as piglins file out, snorting and grunting to each other. His husband tugs on his hand and he stumbles at little as they follow the rest of the group. He’s been in Bastions before of course, but usually he and his friends are rushing through, he’s never slowly walked through any of the castle-like ruins. 

Polished blackstone shines under the light of torches and as they ascend some stairs, Sapnap realizes he can see deep into the belly of the Bastion. Gold is stacked around rows of nether wart, softly glowing red in the dim light there. He blinks curiously as a piglin tends to the fungus, sprinkling bonemeal over them. He had no idea there were piglin farmers like the Overworld villagers.

His husband huffs suddenly and moves to his side and he feels his stomach clench as they pass a stable of hoglins. They grunt and squeal at him, bashing against the fences threateningly and he holds his breath until they’re out of the creatures’ sight, his heart thudding in his chest. There’s a little squeeze at his hand and without really thinking about it he gives a tiny grateful squeeze back. The last time he was in the Nether with his friends, he’d ended up with a broken rib from one of those things and he feels a phantom pain in his chest at the memory.

Sapnap’s distracted as they pass a few open doorways, piglins and piglin brutes busy with different tasks inside. It reminds him of an Overworld village, though there seems to be more bickering. He jumps a little at the loud clanging as they pass a room of stone masons, the piglins’ hands covered in a fine dark-grey powder from the blackstone they’re working on. 

They pass before he can really get a good look, but he can’t help his curiosity. It’s well known only piglins create polished blackstone and guard the secret of it from those in the Overworld. Maybe he can at least learn some valuable information to share with his friends after this is over. The group dwindles a little as various piglins disappear into the rooms, until it’s just him, his husband and a couple who are comparing items from their inventory together as they walk.

Finally after they round a corner they come to another door and Sapnap lets himself be tugged inside. It’s a room with bare blackstone walls as the others had been, but it’s hung with hammocks, giving the room a cramped feel. Around the edges of the room are chests with locks, neatly stacked beside one another. 

He finds himself ushered into a corner and he watches the pair of piglins across the room, unlocking two chests and snorting enviously at each other. Sapnap jerks as the chest next to him creaks and he watches his piglin husband dig through the contents. Now that he’s finally got a little space to think, he realizes he feels exhausted. Maybe it’s the shock of everything, or just the fact he’s been in the Nether likely for almost two days without sleeping. With a soft exhale he sits down on a closed chest behind him, yawning as he watches the piglin remove a potion bottle and a clean cloth out of the chest.

Sapnap squinted at the bottle, assessing the glowing fluid swirling within sleepily. A healing potion? His husband taps a claw on the glass and gives a soft grunt and Sapnap can’t help the questioning noise he makes. His husband seems to chuckle, a soft rhythmic snorting sound before he uncorks the potion and soaks a little into the cloth.

He can’t help jerking just a little when the piglin reaches for him and uses a hand to gently tilt his head to the side. “Uh, what are you-?” he cuts off with a hiss of pain as the cloth is pressed to his newly pierced ear. Large hands very gently soothe the stinging and puffiness around the wound, and he shivers as his husband uses the potion to clear the dried blood from his skin, the magic leaving little tingles in its wake. 

The piglin cocks his head, assessing his work and Sapnap shivers when his large thumb strokes, feather light, around the shell of his ear. “Thanks,” he’s embarrassed by the slight shake in his voice. His husband draws back a little with a soft pleased grunt and he turns to start setting the items back in the chest. Sapnap blinks, a little sleepily, before noticing they’re being watched by the piglins across the room, he averts his eyes as they stare, feeling uncomfortable at the scrutiny. 

It seems to take them all by surprise when a bell rings out. It reminds Sapnap of the ones in Overworld villages, except louder somehow, and seems to reverberate around the whole bastion. There are distant squeals and grunts and the sound of piglins moving. Slowly piglins start filing into the room, and Sapnap can’t help jumping to his feet, feeling outnumbered and nervous, before his husband pats his shoulder and gestures to the closest hammock. 

There’s grunts and snorts and rustling as the rest of the room clamber into the hammocks around the room. Some kick off their boots and leave them on the floor, others just keep them on as they bed down. With how warm the Nether is, few of the mob have blankets.

Oh… that made sense. He’d never really considered how time worked in the Nether, where there was no day or night, nor changing seasons, and clocks would spin uselessly. When visiting, Overworlders couldn’t rest in the Nether safely, it was always a brief trip before returning back through a portal. It would make sense that mobs such as piglins might have designated times for rest, to create a day and night for themselves.

He’s still not expecting when his husband suddenly scoops him up. “Hey wait!” The piglin ignores his struggling and offended yelp, and rolls into the closest hammock. Sapnap splutters indignantly from where he’s pressed against the piglin’s chest, his face flushing against his will. “Can’t I have my own hammock, dude?” he cranes his head up and shoots his husband a quizzical stare.

He receives a rather bemused look in return and then the piglin directs his gaze to the hammock next to theirs and Sapnap looks over to see two piglins snuggling together… and his eyes widen when he notices their matching gold earrings. “Oh.” He takes a minute to gaze around the room, noticing piglins snorting softly to one another from their hammocks. Most have their own hammock or are laying head to toe, there’s only one other married couple, a piglin brute softly nuzzling the head of his smaller piglin partner.

It’s odd to see how universal romantic affection is, it reminds him of his friends suddenly. He feels guilty for feeling like a third wheel around them sometimes. He’d give a lot to have them here now though, even if they’d roast him for getting into such a ridiculous situation. He’s tugged from his thoughts when a hand presses to his back and begins gently petting. 

Sapnap lifts his head a little, ready to tell his husband to stop stroking his back like some kind of pet but he pauses. The piglin is yawning and his pale eyes are heavy with sleep when it regards him and he finds the yawn is contagious. He’s too tired for this and comfy and warm and Sapnap lets his head flop down. The rise and fall of his husband’s chest is oddly soothing and his eyes slide shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm so incredibly sorry for such a long wait between chapters. Last month was a little stressful for me and I ended up with a terrible case of writer's block. Thank you all for your lovely comments, kudos and bookmarks, I can't tell you how much I appreciate them all and how they always bring a smile to my face ^v^

Sapnap didn’t know where he was when he woke up. He was jerked awake by an unfamiliar bell ringing out and would have jumped out of bed, had something not been holding him down. He blinked at the Piglin beneath him, completely frozen and trying to sleepily puzzle out what was going on before his mind finally remembered the previous day’s events. The piglin regards him back, his eyes hazy with sleep, one arm still wrapped around his back. 

Sapnap flinches just a little as his new husband’s large hand reaches up but all the piglin does is gently touch his ear, the clawed thumb stroking the gold ring and he feels an odd flutter in his stomach at the fondness in the larger male’s gaze. 

The moment is broken by a loud grunt from across the room and Sapnap is suddenly reminded they’re very much not alone. The piglins around the room are stretching and rolling out of their hammocks, all yawns and rubbing eyes sleepily. He suddenly feels incredibly unconscious and tries to move to the side. But he’s never slept in a hammock before or tried to get out of one and it proves to be a little difficult to coordinate.

He yelps when he falls onto the blackstone floor with a bump, the impact sending jarring pain through his ass and lower back. Sapnap hisses as he reaches a hand down to rub the affected area, going bright red when he realizes the entire room is staring at him. There’s a shuffle of fabric and a soft thump behind him and he turns to find his piglin husband standing behind him and holding out a hand.

“I can get up on my own you know.” He knows that’s probably a little rude to blurt out, but he feels mortified and there’s grunted laughter from someone else across the room. The piglin just gives him an amused look and continues to hold out his hand patiently. Sapnap sighs and takes it, allowing the taller male to tug him to his feet. 

The room seems to return back to the routine the piglins have in their ‘mornings’, the mob opening chests and retrieving tools before heading out of the door in pairs and groups. Sapnap notices one of the other married couples rubbing snouts in a little loving nuzzle across the room and he turns before they notice. His husband is digging through his own chest, throwing a thick leather apron over his shoulder, followed by two hardy-looking leather gloves. Sapnap tilts his head curiously, fiddling with his hair. He’s sure it must be a ruffled mess. He rearranges the bandana self-consciously.

His husband straightens once more, rolling the bundle of leather garments under one arm and turns to him, gazing down with an inscrutable look. And then his gaze softens when Sapnap’s stomach rumbles and one hand reaches to his lower back. He lets the piglin steer him towards the doorway with an embarrassed chuckle, “okay okay, we’re going?” All he gets is a soft grunt in response.

They go in another direction than the day before, and Sapnap is honestly glad he doesn’t have to pass the hoglin pen again, and also a little intimidated by how maze-like the Bastion is. If he’s left alone he’s pretty sure he’s gonna end up completely lost. He lets his husband guide him down a narrow spiral staircase until they reach another corridor. There’s a hole in the wall, like a gaping maw, blasting them with heat as they pass. Sapnap looks out into a small lake of lava, watching a group of striders making their way across the bubbling pool. He wipes the beading sweat from his brow and notices they’re approaching a large door.

He’s not expecting the vast room they find themselves in, the walls a mixture of basalt and blackstone and lined with long tables crafted from crimson fungi. The hall is filled with the snorts and squeals of piglins and the scent of mushroom stew as the mob sit around eating and talking with one another. Sapnap’s stomach rumbles again and he hears his husband’s snorting laughter, the taller male leading him towards one of the tables. 

He can’t help shrinking a little at the curious glances directed at him from several piglins already seated as he’s herded onto a long bench, sandwiched between his husband and a towering piglin brute. Sapnap feels a slight flash of fear when he sneaks a glance and sees the brute is missing an entire eye and half his ear, but the piglin doesn’t spare him a glance, sipping his stew straight from his bowl and appearing lost to the world.

A steaming bowl is passed to him by a piglin walking between the tables with a huge saucepan. Sapnap nods his head awkwardly, hoping that comes off as polite, “uh, thanks.” Damn he has to restrain himself from immediately grabbing the dish to chug it. A voice in the back of his head reminds him he’s technically surrounded by potential enemies so he should be wary of eating their food, but he’s hungry and it smells good. 

Nevertheless he takes a minute to blow on the steaming stew and peeks to the side to see his husband slurping his own breakfast with a spoon. His eyes rest on the thick fingers clutching the spoon almost delicately and his mind flashes back inexplicably to earlier when those fingertips had been gently petting his ear. His cheeks flush and he’s honestly grateful when his stomach distracts him with another demanding growl and he lifts the bowl to drink.

The stew is good, he’s had it before with Dream and George in the Overworld, but there’s more depth to it. Sapnap slurps more and focuses on the flavor. He can detect a little saltiness, an odd beefiness, and it occurs to him that they might have used hoglin-pork stock to add some extra protein. It’s not an unwelcome addition and he can’t help the satisfied little moan as he drains the bowl.

Sapnap wipes his mouth on his sleeve and notices his husband setting down his own empty bowl. His clawed fingers tap on the table surface and he tilts his head as another piglin across the table huffs and snorts, seeming to ask a question. His husband glances towards Sapnap and one hand creeps up to his pierced ear to fiddle with the gold ring as he snorts back. The piglins across the table shoot him some bemused glances but they don’t seem hostile.

Sapnap sinks into the bench a little self-consciously. He’s not the best with reading people, George and Dream are better with that. A hand presses to his shoulder and he turns to find his husband looking down at him, gesturing with his head that they should leave. 

xxxxx

  
  


Sapnap feels like he should have expected that his husband was a toolsmith. The heavy leather of his work clothes had certainly pointed to something laborious, and a fair bit hazardous. The room he finds himself in is clustered with a large forge and chimney (that he supposes leads out to the side of the Bastion) and a smoothing table, grindstone and blast furnace. And battered iron shelving stacked with tools and metal rods and pieces. 

It smells of molten metal and smoke, two piglins are already hard at work, also wearing the thick leather garments and stoking heat into the hearth, the coals turning to a blistering red. He’s visited toolsmiths’ smithies in the Overworld before but he can’t deny he’s never really spent time watching them work.

He follows his husband as he tugs on his apron and gloves and walks towards the shelves and a low bench pressed against the wall. It’s covered in grubby cloths but the piglin shoves them aside a little to make some room. He gestures at the space, indicating Sapnap should sit. Sapnap sits and he leans back against the cold stone of the wall as he watches his husband begin work. It is interesting to see the piglins discuss and work, he’s honestly not sure how they can even hear each other over the clanging metal and the roar of the fire.

Of course he’s never been the most patient person and after a while it becomes boring just to sit and watch. He fiddles with his bandana, his pants, unties and reties his laces, and then his eyes fall to the shelves beside him. Sapnap starts fiddling, examining small rough sheets of metal, and part-worked pieces. 

At first he just leans from the bench until eventually he ends up standing. He’s not been told he can touch but he’s bored. Most of the metal is iron, there’s some gold and even sliced stone. He’s had weapons of all of them before of course but it’s fascinating to touch the raw materials and fully examine them. There’s a clang from behind him and Sapnap accidentally knocks a pile of tools. They fall to the floor and the resulting cacophony makes him jump. 

One of the other piglins squeals angrily and Sapnap blurts an apology, squatting down to gather up the tools. He keeps dropping some in his haste, face red in embarrassment. A shadow falls over him and he looks up to the familiar sight of his husband. The piglin kneels down and helps him collect the tools, his face is smudged with the dark powder that comes from grinding metal. Sapnap drags his gaze away and hefts the hefty bundle of tools in his arms back up onto the shelf.

The two other toolsmiths seem to be bickering and they gesture to him angrily. Sapnap backs up a little, he really  _ really _ doesn't like being unarmed. His husband snarls back, moving to stand in front of him, gloved hands on his hips. When the others don’t back down however, Sapnap sees his shoulders slump and he turns to him, larger hand taking his. 

The press of the weathered leather is rough against his skin as he’s tugged towards the door. “Those dudes want me to wait outside huh? What the heck bro? I’m hurt.” There’s no heat to the words though and his husband’s lips quirk up a little as he shrugs, his chest shaking with those little grunting chuckles. “Who’re you laughing at? I have been wronged!” Sapnap finds himself grinning too, rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “So I guess I gotta go be busy elsewhere until later huh?”

His husband seems to frown and his hand reaches out to pat his head. Sapnap ducks a little with an awkward laugh. God this guy was so tactile, he’s really not used to it. There’s a soft grunt before the piglin nods and Sapnap sighs, he has no idea what he’s gonna do on his own. “You’ll come find me later yeah? I think I’m gonna end up getting lost,” he looks around, “probably.”

The piglin snorts amusedly and pats his shoulder before turning back to the doorway. Sapnap watches as he returns back to his work before sighing a little and shuffling down the hallway. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he feels like he shouldn’t go too far. There’s another hole in the wall, a smaller one this time and he hovers a little, looking out into the Nether. The sound of a Ghast has him whipping back inside though, hand reaching for the bow that just isn’t there.

He hears high-pitched snorts and squeals coming from ahead and creeps on curiously. As he turns the corner he finds the source. There’s a group of five baby piglins playing in the narrow space of the hallway. One has another on their shoulders, wobbling from the weight. The others have a collection of chalk pieces and are drawing all over the blackstone of the floor. 

Sapnap smiles and squats down to their level, “hey, what you got there?” The children look at him curiously, pausing in their scribbling. The sudden scrutiny makes him balk a little, especially when one of the baby piglins stands and walks towards him. They press their clawed fingers, featherlight to his hoodie over his collarbone, before darting back shyly. He can’t help the little laugh of surprise that bursts out of him.

He doesn’t want to scare them so he cautiously reaches down to an abandoned stick of chalk on the floor and turns to the wall closest to him, whistling in exaggerated nonchalance. He starts sketching a rather crude drawing of a horse. Back in the Overworld he’d had a rather handsome chestnut spotted horse… well until he’d been caught in a raid. He shudders at that thought and starts adding grass and trees to his picture.

For a few minutes the baby piglins remain quiet and watch him, soft shuffles and breaths indicating they’re creeping a little closer to peep. And then one toddles over to kneel next to him, snorting curiously. Sapnap feels a smile tug at his lips and he attempts a tiny chicken. “This is a chicken,” he turns to find the piglin tilting their head, “it sounds like-” he makes a chicken noise. 

Another baby piglin squeezes through the tiny gap between him and the child next to him, squeaking questioningly and pointing to the horse. Sapnap laughs, “yeah that’s a horse, they’re in the Overworld… and this is a sheep!” He doodles a blobby sheep. “They’re covered in fluffy wool which we shear off and turn into beds and clothes,” he tugs at the front of his hoodie with a grin and turns back to the wall to draw a very crude rendition of the house he built from wood.

The baby piglins seem absolutely fascinated by everything he says and draws and it spurs him on to keep sketching, telling them all about the Overworld. He continues sketching, explaining about the different mobs that come out at night and when the little piglins snort curiously he goes on to explain night and day, drawing a sun and stars.

“I couldn’t draw enough stars though, they’re like… tiny twinkling lights in the sky? Thousands and thousands of them. And of course there’s the moon which changes too, it moves across the sky and then disappears when the sun rises, bringing light to the world.” He’s kneeling now, after his calves had started protesting the squatting position, and the children are gathered around him, completely absorbed in his every word.

Sapnap is halfway through drawing the ocean, describing a time he and his friends were hunting for sunken ships when he hears thudding footsteps and there’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around to find legs behind him. He tilts his head up to find the familiar face of his husband. The piglin looks between the group of baby piglins, him and his embarrassingly bad scribbles. 

Sapnap chuckles awkwardly and passes what remains of the chalk stick, now more of a stub, to the closest child’s hand. “Hey there big guy, uh, these aren’t… mine?” The piglin makes one of his little snorting laughs and kneels down to join him. His large clawed fingertip points to the half-drawn ocean, his head tilting curiously.

“Oh that? That’s supposed to be the ocean, it’s a huge uh… well you know you have those giant pools of lava that seem to go on forever?” Sapnap wracks his mind for how to explain the sea to someone who lives in the _ Nether _ . His husband nods, and Sapnap notices his ears twitching a little and he tries to ignore the sudden thought of how adorable that is. “It’s kind of like that I guess? Except it’s deep water, so deep and dark you can’t see the bottom, and it’s full of creatures that can breathe underwater.”

This piglin snorts a little, his gaze shifting between the drawings and Sapnap’s face, seeming fascinated. And then the baby piglins toddle closer, three of them now balancing on each other’s shoulders and wobbling precariously. They begin to lose balance with worried squeals and his husband reaches out to catch them, the children tumbling into his lap with squeaks and snorts and ending up in a heap.

Sapnap can’t hold in the bark of laughter, “watch out, it’s raining piglins!” His husband gives him a questioning glance, hands busy setting the baby piglins back on their feet. He realizes once more that weather would be another alien concept. “Oh… rain is something from the Overworld, when water drops from the sky.”

The piglin shakes his head with a bemused huff and pats his head before gesturing to the hallway. He mimes pressing his hand to his mouth and then rubbing his stomach.

As if on cue, Sapnap registers just how hungry he is, and also with how much his shoulders and back are aching. He glances around at the walls, they’re covered in his drawings of the Overworld (which the baby piglins are now adding little scribbles to). He must have been at this for hours. “Yeah, I could eat dude.”

He’s a little worried with how natural it’s becoming having the piglin take his hand and lead him around. He turns to wave at the baby piglins with his free hand, “see you later kiddos.” A few wave back with little joyful squeaks.

His husband entwines their fingers and Sapnap feels his stomach give a little jolt. The piglin’s hand really dwarfs his. His grip is so gentle, even though Sapnap knows he’s probably strong as heck, he’d flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes the day before with ease. He’s grateful when they approach the familiar doors to the dining hall for the distraction, his thoughts were getting a little… weird.

And damn, the scent of roasted hoglin is making his mouth water.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***
> 
> I'm so incredibly sorry for the long wait everyone, thank you all for the kudos and comments! I'll try to get better at posting more regularily than once a month!
> 
> Just wondering, how do y'all feel about me bending the game mechanics of Minecraft? There's some suggestions I've had that would require me ignoring certain in-game mechanics (-cough- such as piglins visiting the Overworld)
> 
> **Forewarning**: there is smut in this chapter, it's not super graphic but it is plot-relevant. I'll give heads up at the start of the chapters with smut in them
> 
> ***

  
  


A week passes and Sapnap feels himself adjusting to the mob’s routine, more or less. At first he spends much of the day exploring the Bastion and drawing a map. There are more sleeping quarters on the level that he and his husband sleep on (and he can’t help finding the realization the baby piglins all share a hammock together absolutely adorable). The structure is huge; he discovers bathrooms, another forge, a curing chamber, a kitchen, an apothecary and a library near the elder piglin leader’s room. He hasn’t even ventured much deeper down and yet he knows there must be more hidden away. 

There’s only been one room he hasn’t been able to enter. It was tucked down a hallway as they passed, his husband showing him an alternate route to the dining hall, and he’d asked what it was. It stuck out curiously both from the fact it was oddly isolated and because there was a marking in the wood of the door. 

Much to his surprise, the piglin had stiffened and rubbed the back of his neck. His snorted reply had been oddly strained and he’d taken his hand, tugging him along. If it had been an effort to distract him it had kind of failed, it just raised his curiosity. But he’d left it as his husband seemed oddly shy and uncomfortable and Sapnap knew he wasn’t always aware when people were dropping hints, but he could take this one.

For the most part there was a general routine, similar to Overworld villages. Most adult piglins had some kind of profession, although the community took turns with certain tasks and activities. He eats breakfast with his husband before walking with him to the forge and then he adds more to his map or heads towards the library. 

The piglin librarian had seemed rather wary of him the first time he wandered in but now seems to tolerate his presence. He's never seen a library like this before, it's a maze of shelves which extend from basalt floor to blackstone ceiling. Every shelf is stuffed full of books and scrolls of parchment, some of which seem truly ancient, with the exception of the lowest shelves.

At first he hadn't understood what the padded mats rolled neatly on every lower shelf had been for. He'd sat on the hard floor to read until the librarian had huffed and tugged one out for him, patting it firmly to indicate he should sit. Sapnap had been momentarily distracted by the gold ring in the librarian’s ear glinting under the light of the lanterns before he’d grinned and thanked the piglin. He’d rolled his golden eyes and gone back to his lectern to work, leaving him to it.

Since then the place has become a destination he frequents almost daily. It’s quiet and the mats are soft and while he’s never been a big reader (after all, books are hard to come by in the Overworld), they’re a pleasant way to pass the hours. And piglin literature is interesting; there’s all the more practical books of masonry, smithing, fletching, the uses of the few fauna and flora of the Nether and older texts that delve into history.

Some of it goes right over his head and a lot of the older texts are just too archaic or a mixture of what must be the written piglin language which is just lost on him completely. Still he feels like he’s working some things out. George and Dream would probably be shocked to see him sitting quietly and reading. He’s always been more of a learner by doing. Sapnap chuckles to himself, to be fair they’d be shocked by the whole situation he’s landed himself in.

xxxxx

  
  


Sapnap can’t deny he really enjoys spending time with his husband. Mostly it’s around meal times, and before and after the piglin starts his tool smithing shift. He’s still not always certain what the piglin is trying to convey but the taller male is always so patient and tries to use gestures to explain. And he listens in a way Sapnap just isn’t used to. George and Dream sometimes get a little lost in one another when talking, or devolve into ribbing on him.

His piglin husband just listens attentively as he rambles, even if it’s something dumb. And his snorting chuckles are really growing on him. If Sapnap acts more of a fool sometimes to elicit more of them that’s his own business. He also really likes the way the piglin says his name, two sharp snorts that have an ‘ah-ah’ sound. Sapnap would love to know if his husband has a name but there’s a chance it’s not something translatable into writing. Sometimes the piglin explains things in writing that are just too complex for gestures.

He discovers his husband’s favorite meal is slow-roasted strider when the piglin had squealed rather adorably when they were served bowls of the steaming dish one evening meal. At first he’d balked at trying it, recognizing the redness of the meat. But it did smell good, in a weird way, he’d never smelled anything quite like it. It was seasoned with nether roots that had a peppery flavor and the meat was so tender it practically melted on his tongue. Sapnap couldn’t stop the pleased moan he made and he gobbled it down, praying it wasn’t actually poisonous to humans. He’d survived the night so either it wasn’t poisonous or he just happened to have an iron stomach.

Sapnap finds he actually really misses the piglin when he’s at work in the forge. He needs to keep busy or he gets bored easily and people are always a good distraction. The library helps, exploring helps and sometimes he finds the gaggle of baby piglins and spends hours amusing them. Sometimes he sits by a hole in the Bastion wall, gazing out into the lava lakes and mist and misses the sun and the stars.

One day he doesn’t see his husband. They go to breakfast together as usual, but when the bell rings for lunch and Sapnap hurries from the library to the dining hall, he doesn’t see the piglin anywhere. Still the group of piglins at the table they usually sit with scooch over and pat the bench for him. He casts his gaze about the room, stomach clenching as he eats and almost unconsciously he finds his free hand fiddling with his pierced ear. 

He doesn’t see the piglin at dinner either and his stomach feels even worse. He pushes the stew about in his bowl, trying to think if there’s a reason his husband might be avoiding him. Sapnap can’t think of anything, they’d woken up intertwined in their hammock as usual and gone to the morning meal as normal. His husband had given him a fond look and ruffled his hair before heading into the forge as he was wont to do (and Sapnap is going to pretend that those touches don’t send a flutter through him). There was nothing out of the ordinary, or at least what has become ordinary.

He sighs and heads to the bedroom when the night bell rings. And then his worry flares into a panic when he doesn’t find his husband there. He can’t help whispering under his breath, peering down the hallway in worry, “where the hell are you dude?” With another glance around at the room, the other piglins clambering into their hammocks and giving him confused looks, he leaves the room again.

Sapnap feels like he should have twigged that his husband might still be in the forge. To his credit it’s the first place he thinks to look. The Bastion is quiet with most piglins already settled down for sleep. Only a few piglin brutes are stationed around to protect the structure. They eye him as he passes but he thinks it’s more curious than the wary hostility they’d radiated towards him when he’d first arrived.

The forge doorway is open as he rounds the corner and he peers inside. The fire is doused, tools laid out for the coming day. Only the worktable is lit in fact, candles flickering and casting pools of golden light over the single remaining piglin in the room. His husband is hunched over a large piece of parchment which nearly covers the entire table surface, eyes squinting as he scribbles and snorts very softly to himself.

Sapnap raises an eyebrow and knocks on the doorframe. The piglin doesn’t react, seemingly lost in thought as he scratches his ear with gloved fingers and snarling as he scratches off something on the paper. With a bemused huff, Sapnap walks in and sidles closer until he’s at his husband’s side. The piglin is working on some detailed blueprints of the Bastion and plans for a... drawbridge? “Hey.”

The piglin jumps and whirls around with a startled squeal, almost knocking over everything strewn over the table. He blinks down at Sapnap for a long moment, before he peers about the room and he stiffens. A short snort of surprise follows as he seemingly notices how late it must be.

“I was wondering where you were dude, have you eaten today like, at all?” Sapnap leans against the table and yawns, hands snug in his hoodie pockets. He watches as his husband mirrors the yawn, rubbing his eyes with the back of his forearm. The piglin shrugs, averting his gaze and then the taller male’s stomach rumbles. “I knew it! Okay we’re getting you some supper and then you’re coming to bed.”

The piglin glances towards the blueprints once more, huffing out an annoyed breath as his gloved fingers tap the table. He yawns again, a longer one this time and blinks sleepily.

“Hey no way dude, you’re exhausted. Look this can wait until tomorrow yeah?” Sapnap puts on his best convincing tone, with a slight pleading edge that tends to either have George and Dream do what he wants or tell him to fuck off, it’s a 50/50 chance. “Maybe you can tell me about it tomorrow? It looks pretty cool.” He watches the piglin sigh and lean down to blow out the candles and manages not to pump his fist in triumph. 

His husband still seems hesitant as he leads him down towards the kitchen. “Come on, live a little, we won’t get caught!... Probably.” Sapnap grins up at him, he likes causing a little mischief now and then. It’s something he and his friends get up to a lot and he’d certainly consider the piglin a friend at this point.

He’s only been in the kitchen once before but his husband seems more familiar, if a little wary. It feels like they’re children sneaking a midnight snack and Sapnap can’t help giggling a bit as he follows the piglin past the stoves, cauldrons and a huge iron fireplace hung with all manner of saucepans, towards another door. It leads to a narrow pantry, shelves stocked with baskets of mushrooms, dried roots, vines and cured and dried meat. 

He nudges his husband and yawns into his hand, “come on, you can have a little snack and then we’ll get some rest.” 

The piglin snorts a little, before he reaches for some of the cured meat, he offers a strip to Sapnap but he waves it off. “Nah thanks I’m good, I ate dinner.” 

He amuses himself by inspecting the shelves as his husband munches. By Overworld standards the pantry hasn’t much choice, but he’s honestly impressed by how much the piglins have found in the Nether. He’d never had thought to try the vines, roots or sprouts. And certainly not striders but then the lava-inhabiting mob is the most like the cows, sheep and pigs in the Overworld. He finds a huge leather sack of salt* and blinks at it curiously before the piglin taps his shoulder to get his attention.

They leave the pantry as they found it (well sans a few strips of meat) and creep back to their hammock, tiptoeing past the slumbering piglins to their corner. Sapnap notices his sleepy husband struggling with his gloves and lets out a breathy laugh before reaching to help. He sets them in the chest and coaxes the yawning piglin to lean down so he can help him slip off the heavy work apron, rolling it as neatly as he can because he’s too tired to fold it. 

The piglin blinks and clumsily closes the chest before reaching for him. Sapnap doesn’t even think twice before letting himself be tugged into their hammock, shifting sleepily in the taller male’s arms as he drifts off.

xxxxx

There seems to be one day a week where the piglins take the afternoon off, abandoning all work for the next day to indulge in recreational activities. The majority of the mob meet in the dining hall, some sitting at the tables and others lounging around the fireplace as they talk in their own tongue. Sapnap spent the first of these afternoons half-hiding behind his husband and trying to avoid the wary looks he was receiving. 

As the second one of these afternoons rolls around, he finds the piglins have mellowed to his presence and he observes the room curiously, sipping a steaming cup of twisting vines tea. It has a soothing mint-like flavor, although he can taste slight bitterness on his tongue. It occurs to him that the piglins might go absolutely (excuse the pun) hog-wild for sugar, as the sweet ingredient doesn’t exist in the Nether.

On one table there’s a group of piglins trading the contents of their inventory, haggling competitively in loud snorts and squeals. A gold sword is brought out and there’s a flurry of excitement, the owner snorting with laughter and teasingly shaking his head at every offered item the others produce, leaning back and crossing his arms as the rest of the table begin arguing.

On the other end of their table, two piglins are deeply invested in some kind of game. Sapnap leans a little closer to see. The game board is crafted from bone or perhaps hoglin tusk, a square shallow box with deep grooves carved into the surface. They crisscross, the entire surface divided into neat squares. And the pair have a collection of flat round stones, likely carved and polished from basalt, and each painted with the face of a piglin, hoglin or wither skeleton. 

They’re set out on each side of the board like an army. Sapnap takes another long sip and watches as a piglin stone is pushed forwards across the board. The other piglin taps on the table top, assessing his own stone set and he pushes a wither skeleton forwards. There’s an amused huff as he shoves it into the piglin stone, sending it flying off the board. His opponent snarls, snorting out angrily and leaning to grab the lost stone. They continue with the game, which ends in victory when the opposing piglin gets their stones to the other side.

Sapnap turns to find his husband deep in conversation with two piglins he recognizes as the two toolsmiths he works with in the forge. The piglin’s ears are twitching as he snorts animatedly, seeming excited and Sapnap feels a fond flutter in his stomach, he’s very… cute. He feels his cheeks flush and he turns to distract himself, watching the familiar group of baby piglins near the fireplace.

Watched over intently by two hulking piglin brutes, the children are making shadows on the floor in the light of the crackling flames, trying to make shapes with their little hands. They’re babbling excitedly to the adult piglins, two of them abandoning the shadow puppetry entirely and ending up play-wrestling on the rug. Sapnap wheezes out a little laugh as they roll and nibble on each other’s ears. He takes a quick glance back at his husband, who’s thankfully still engaged in conversation and takes a good look at the bite in his ear. He wonders if he also liked to wrestle as a little one. It’s hard to imagine the tall piglin ever being so tiny. 

A bell rings out and the piglins cheer as the evening meal is served. Sapnap meets his husband’s eyes as the taller male passes him a plate of crispy pork crackling and roasted mushrooms. His stomach flutters again at the soft fondness in the piglin’s eyes and he grins a little awkwardly, averting his gaze after thanking him. He feels his husband’s hand brush his and he swallows, his cheeks flushing with heat. Sapnap notices one of the toolsmiths giving him a rather knowing look from across the table and he tries to focus on his meal, cheeks feeling redder than they ever have before.

xxxxx

Later that night he just can’t sleep, he’s hyper aware of the rise and fall of his husband’s chest as he breathes, deep in sleep. The room isn’t pitch dark, there’s always a couple of torches burning, casting dim light around the room. Sapnap shifts a little, wishing he could toss and turn like he would in his bed in the Overworld, but he doesn’t want to disturb the piglin.

He cranes his head, his husband has his head thrown back, one arm curled above his head in the scrunched leather of the hammock, pulled taught from where it’s hanging. Maybe, if he’s very very careful, he can wiggle out and go for a little walk to clear his head? Or at least tire him out enough to sleep.

He attempts to roll to the side of the hammock and the arm around him briefly tightens a little, the piglin snuffling sleepily, a questioning mumble that rumbles through his chest. Sapnap extracts himself from his hold and pats his shoulder. His voice is a whisper as he reassures him, “hey I’m just using the bathroom. I’ll be right back, you can go back to sleep dude.”

The piglin murmurs again, eyes cracking open just a little, and Sapnap can’t help finding him half-asleep absolutely adorable. He wiggles himself over and clumsily drops out of the hammock. “I'll be right back.” His husband yawns and nods, snuggling back into the hammock as his eyes close.

Sapnap rubs his own eyes as he wanders the halls, shivering just a little. More from exhaustion than cold as the Bastion is always warm. He avoids the hoglin pen as usual, though at this time the violent mob tend to be sleeping themselves, and makes his way to the bathroom. 

He doesn’t need to use it but washing the sweat off his face and neck would help him feel more refreshed at least. In the bathrooms there are iron cauldrons that serve as basins, the water replenished daily. He leans over and scrubs his face with some of the water, splashing the back of his neck. The water isn’t cool like it would be in the Overworld, as with everything else it’s naturally warm but he’s growing used to it.

Fiddling with his bandana he yawns and goes back to his wandering. A pair of piglin brutes nod at him as he passes and he gives them a sleepy wave, yawning midway through a ‘s’up’. He’s not really sure where he’s going, the library will be closed, as will the archery range he’d discovered on the roof of the Bastion the other day. He fully intended to ask if he could use it and show off his skills, he  _ was _ really good with a bow if he said so himself.

Almost without thinking he ends up in the corridor with the one door he’s not been allowed inside. His curiosity rises and he chances a glance around him. Surely it wouldn’t hurt just to peek? What could they be hiding that was bad for him to see anyway? He grips the doorknob and blinks in actual surprise when it turns. Well the door isn’t _ locked _ after all…

In retrospect Sapnap is very impressed by how the heavy door managed to muffle sound, he doesn’t hear the snorting moans and whines until he’s stuck his whole head through to peek. He freezes, hand still gripping the doorknob, eyes widening as he takes in the entwined pair across the room.

He thinks it might be the piglin and piglin brute married couple that share sleeping quarters with his husband and him. The room is lit by candles, casting a soft warm glow around the space. There is an almost-nest of thick hoglin hides and laying back on them is the smaller piglin, legs and arms wrapped around his mate as they rock slowly together.

Sapnap manages to hold back a gasp, feeling his face burn but he can’t seem to move, his legs locking up. With some luck they’re too lost in one another to notice him, even the sound of the door opening. The two piglin nuzzle one another, the larger brute rolling his hips into his smaller partner and making him squeal. 

The piglin brute’s shorts are rolled down enough to let Sapnap see his corkscrew tail, twitching a little as he thrusts. Clawed fingers tug up the back of the brute’s tunic, scratching his back as the smaller piglin moans. He can’t see much from this angle, but he thinks the piglin below is naked, pale skin glowing a little in the candlelight. 

Sapnap swallows a little, mouth falling open as the two piglins move a little faster, their mouths meeting in a loving kiss. It’s so… soft and intimate. The brute groans and sneaks his hand to wrap around his smaller partner’s cock, though Sapnap can’t really see clearly as it’s hidden between their bodies, pressed so close together. The smaller piglin arches and whimpers, claws digging into the brute’s back-

Oh fuck he’s a pervert, standing and watching and- Sapnap manages to jerk himself backwards, biting his lip as he carefully, oh so very carefully, closes the door and backs up. His whole body feels aflame and he can’t get the image out of his mind, his ears straining to see if he can still hear those needy sounds against his will. And then guilt lashes through his gut, like an icy wave and he swallows again, stumbling backwards out of the corridor.

He rushes through the hallways, mind awhirl with shame and a muddle of other things he’s not even sure how to process. Sapnap pauses, heart racing, he doesn’t want to go back to their hammock, he doesn’t think he can cope with being pressed against his husband right now, he feels almost sick. 

He shouldn’t have opened the door, he invaded their privacy, of course a communal living space would have a private space for sex, that made perfect sense. God he was such an idiot and such a pervert for standing there and  _ watching _ .

Sapnap turns and makes his way towards the library, a sour taste in his mouth as his gut churns with shame. He thanks whatever deity is out there that the librarian doesn’t lock it and sneaks inside. He feels like a zombie as he tugs out a mat and lays down, trying to not think. 

He’s not innocent; he loves making dirty jokes, and he’s enjoyed listening to the dirty stories people share around campfires when his friends and him travel. But he’s never  _ seen _ it and he’s not done anything more than share a few joke-y kisses. The image of his piglin husband straddling him like that suddenly flashes through his mind and he yelps, blushing anew and pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes, hard enough to hurt. What the hell is wrong with him? 

Sapnap scrubs his face and rolls into his side, pressing an arm over his eyes and trying to clear his mind. He’s not thinking about this, he’s going to pretend it never happened and get some sleep. The crackling of the torch over the librarian’s lectern lulls him to a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *As there is no seasalt in the Nether, the piglins get their salt they use for cooking and curing meats from Nether fossils, as bones have a high percentage of salts within them (please don't come for my ass if this is highly scientifically inaccurate)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for this chapter: moderate violence and injuries, minor character death, some possessive behavior

Sapnap is woken by a firm hand shaking him, he snuffles and tilts his head up, sleepy and disoriented, to find the piglin librarian leaning over him. His mouth feels dry and he realizes with a flare of embarrassment that there’s dried drool on his cheek where he’d been pressing his face into the reading mat. He clumsily wipes at his face before he fully registers where he is. He jolts up and the librarian jerks back with a bemused snort. His bandana flops over his face, brushing his nose and he glances about the room before meeting the piglin’s gaze. 

He winces, trying to laugh through the awkwardness. “So uh.. I got lost in a good book?” His cheeks heat up and he rubs the back of his neck, hyper aware that there are no books near him. The librarian scoffs, pointedly giving him a once over before he raises one clawed hand and his mouth opens to say something. He’s interrupted by thundering footsteps outside and a familiar piglin lurching through the doorway.

They both blink up at his husband, he’s panting and looking panicked, hand gripping the doorframe. His breaths are coming in pants like he’s been running all over the bastion. For a moment his eyes rest on Sapnap and he seems to slump a little, features softening in relief. And then he seems to notice the librarian kneeling very close to the human’s side.

Sapnap tenses when his husband lets out a sound he’s not heard before, at least from the very gentle piglin. The growl seems to fill the room and Sapnap inches back when his husband stalks forwards, vicious glare fixed on the piglin librarian. He swallows and can only stare, eyes wide, as the librarian gets to his feet, movements careful and calculated.

The two piglins glare at one another, fists clenching. His husband tilts his chin up challengingly, another aggressive growl rolling through his chest. The librarian snorts a reply but it lacks any true anger, it just feels... annoyed? Sapnap blinks in surprise when the piglin actually rolls his eyes before he straightens. He turns his head and brings a hand up to gesture pointedly at the gold ring in his ear with short agitated snorts and huffs.

His husband relaxes marginally, though his retort is still a low growl. He stalks past the librarian, eyes never leaving him, until he’s between the other and Sapnap. Sapnap feels his stomach clench as his husband leans down and he can’t help the little bewildered yelp when he’s grabbed firmly and picked up. 

His eyes widen so much they actually ache a little and his cheeks flush in mortification as he’s hefted up against the piglin’s chest. He forgets how strong his husband is. The librarian gives a sound, shrill but not quite a squeal, and makes his way over to his lectern, deliberately putting his back to them, though Sapnap can see his shoulders are still tense.

Sapnap tilts his head up a little with a gulp, it’s hard to see his husband’s expression but he’s still fixated on the librarian and the taller male grips him tightly as he stalks towards the door. He wants to ask what the hell his husband's beef is with the other piglin but he’s also kind of afraid to redirect that anger towards himself. 

So he stays quiet as he’s carried from the library and through the halls, face red with mortification at all the confused glances sent their way. And nervousness is growing within him, making his stomach feel like it’s twisting into a ball. There’s a little relief when he recognizes they’re headed for their sleeping quarters and not some kind of evil spooky dungeon, but he’s still worried.

He backs up a little when he’s set down, the piglin watching him with an unreadable expression. And then his husband slumps a little, the tension held in his body loosening and his brow furrows with a look of hurt and concern. He glances at their hammock before turning back to Sapnap and he wrings his hands, his claws pressing into the skin. He lets out a worried snort, huffing out a short exhale through his snout.

Oh, oh he’d been worried? Sapnap swallows before sighing and pressing a hand to rub the back of his neck. He meets the piglin’s eyes and tries to explain, “I’m sorry dude, I.. I uh…” he fumbles with his words, a choked sound escaping when he remembers just why he hadn’t come back to the hammock during the night. He can’t help the way his face heats up, so much that it reaches the tips of his ears. 

His husband watches him and he seems oddly… hurt. And that just adds to his tongue-tied-ness, it pours a thick layer of guilt on top of his nerves and embarrassment. He splutters out an awkward noise and tries again. “I uh.. couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, you know? So I was wandering around-” he’s talking too fast, he can tell, “and then I decided to go to the library and read to get myself sleepy you know? Heh.. and then I was too sleepy to come back so I just fell asleep there… kinda dumb I know.” He rubs the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly and finding it hard to meet his husband’s gaze.

The piglin huffs and takes a wary step towards him, reaching out hesitantly. Sapnap is busy fiddling with his hoodie’s hood as a distraction so the press of a palm to his cheek makes him jump. His husband snorts out a string of piglin speech with the familiar ‘ah ah’ of his name, it sounds distressed. Sapnap blinks at him, the skin of his palm is so warm against his cheek, he feels so hyper aware of it. “Were you worried when I wasn’t here? I’m.. I’m really sorry if I scared you bro.”

The thumb on his cheek strokes over the skin and he can’t help shivering. His husband’s expression softens and he lets out a very gentle huffing laugh. Sapnap hopes that means he’s forgiven, but he’s a little distracted as the piglin moves a little closer, his thumb still stroking. The guy really is so much taller than him and he’s got to be ripped, he carried him halfway across the bastion like it was nothing…

Sapnap isn’t expecting the sudden flash of memory of the night before that suddenly springs to mind, and he’s definitely not prepared for the subsequent thought of whether his husband would make those kinds of sounds... He jerks back like he’s been burned, suddenly afraid of how close they are, afraid of where his mind is going. “Ah!.. Damn, I just realized you probably haven’t eaten breakfast right?” He doesn’t feel hungry at all but god he needs some kind of distraction.

His husband lets out a quickly-stifled-whine when he pulls back and his hands go back to wringing a little. He seems to swallow his reaction, coughing awkwardly and nodding tersely. The piglin gives him another unreadable look before he makes his way over to his chest, tugging out his work gloves and apron. 

It’s an everyday ritual, usually Sapnap sits on the chest next to theirs and fiddles with his bandana or mumbles sleepily while he wakes up. And his husband will send him fond glances before they head to the dining hall. The tenseness, the way the piglin seems wary to look or speak to him, makes him ache. Sapnap buries his hands in his hoodie pockets and scuffs his sneakers on the floor. It feels like he’s broken something delicate, something that had only just started becoming tangible.

xxxxx

For the next couple of days there’s a little awkwardness around them, his husband seems hesitant to share the casual touch he’s wont to. Even when they’re sleeping he keeps his arms above his head or at his sides. Sapnap hadn’t realized how accustomed he’s become to the piglin’s touch and he misses it. 

And it doesn’t help that he keeps thinking back to his accidental voyeurism, the memory seems to hit him at odd times and he has to swallow down the guilt and flustered blush that always accompanies it. He can’t even look at the piglin couple in question, averting his gaze whenever he notices them in the dining hall or in their sleeping quarters. 

At least the dining hall is always a flurry of activity and makes for a good distraction. Sapnap rubs his eyes, abandoning his spoon in his mushroom soup. He’s not been sleeping well, he’s gotten too used to his husband petting his back and the comforting weight of his arm as he holds him close. Without thinking he slumps into the piglin’s side with a big yawn, unconsciously rubbing his cheek against the soft leather of his tunic. 

His husband stiffens for a moment, pausing in his conversation with the one-eyed brute before he relaxes and continues. Sapnap had recently discovered the tough-looking brute was a big softie who had a pet strider, in a part of the Bastion where the floor was cracked and lava bubbled. He’d shown the baby piglins how to take turns feeding it a little warped fungus. Sapnap sighs contentedly when a clawed hand rests on his head, petting him gently.

When they crawl into their hammock that night, Sapnap swallows and reaches for his husband’s hand. The piglin makes a curious snort and even in the dim light of the room he can make out a slight flush across the taller male’s cheeks. Sapnap huffs out an embarrassed laugh, his own cheeks burning, and he awkwardly wraps the arm around his back, hiding his face in the firm chest beneath him.

He can hear the piglin’s heart beating, feel the shuddery exhale that his husband lets out as much as hear it. The arm around his back tightens briefly before he begins petting his back. Sapnap sighs and rests one hand on his husband’s shoulder, the other hanging off the edge of the hammock lazily.

He’s only half aware, practically asleep, when his fingers edge up to brush the gold ring in the piglin’s ear. His husband nuzzles into his fingertips with a soft snuffly sound. It makes his stomach flutter a little as he closes his eyes, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

xxxxx

The mob share certain tasks, taking turns so that none of their other professions will be affected. Sapnap learns that any piglin can be called to join the hunting and gathering party. It’s easy to deduce that any piglins that his friends and him have come across in the Nether outside of the Bastions have been part of these groups. It also explains why the items they have to trade vary so wildly.

Their group, or at least those they share sleeping quarters with are called into the center of the Bastion by the elder leader. They’re offered large leather bags that resemble coin purses, and wicker baskets woven from dried weeping vines. At first Sapnap is confused and asks what they’re for, and his husband gives him a fond look before squatting and miming picking something from the floor and stuffing it into his basket.

“Oh, they’re for collecting mushrooms and stuff?” Sapnap scuffs his sneakers on the floor, he’s not been giving anything. “Can I go with you? I’m good with a bow!” He grins confidently.

The piglin blinks at him in surprise before he looks away, his shoulders tending briefly. Sapnap furrows his brows before it occurs to him his husband might be thinking he wants to run away. He steps closer and pats his shoulder with what he hopes is a reassuring laugh, “hey, I just wanna hang out with you dude, I’m here until the month’s over, pinky promise!” He holds up his hand with a soft smile, all fingers curled inwards except for the smallest.

He’s not expecting the strange sinking feeling at his own words, he’d been starting to forget he was here on a contract. He swallows it down and watches as the piglin relaxes, though he just looks at his hand in confusion. 

Sapnap lets out a bark of laughter, reaching for the taller male’s hand. His husband allows him to gently curl his fingers until just the clawed pinky is outstretched, watching in bewilderment and a little amusement. “Yeah like this, it’s like a sacred oath, the most unbreakable promise we have-'' he puts on a mock-serious tone, his voice deepening, “we twist our pinkies together and we pinky promise.” 

The piglin looks down at where their pinky fingers are interlinked and his sudden snorted laughter sets Sapnap off with a fit of his own. He doesn’t even think of the fact they’re probably drawing some very confused looks from the piglins around them, he’s honestly just enjoying the adorable way his husband covers his mouth, cheeks flushed as he shakes with mirth.

Sapnap huffs out one last breathless laugh before he gently lets his husband’s hand go. “So, can I have a bow?” He can’t help the excitement bubbling inside him at the thought of showing off a little. The thought of the piglin being impressed, of his husband’s attention just on him, while he’s doing something he’s actually really good at… it sends a flutter through his stomach.

The piglin pats his shoulder and walks over to the elder piglin and a small group of piglin brutes he’s talking with. Sapnap watches as they get into a discussion, gesturing towards him a few times. He shifts a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. He figures they’re probably discussing if he can be trusted, he hadn’t exactly given the piglin leader a good first impression. Finally they seem to come to an agreement and he’s ushered over.

Sapnap tries to smile winningly and appear as disarming as he can. The elder piglin tilts his head at him, assessing. And then he reaches out with one clawed hand, shaking subtly, towards one of the brutes. The brute snorts and retrieves a bow and quiver of arrows from his inventory, passing them into Sapnap’s hands.

“Yeah!! Thank you dude!” He bounces on his heels excitedly, swinging the quiver over his shoulder and hooking the bow over the other. He grins eagerly at his husband who gives him one in return, sharp fangs glinting from behind his tusks. Their gaze lingers, the piglin’s eyes shining fondly and Sapnap feels his heart quicken a little. He can’t help the heat that flashes through his cheeks, averting his eyes and fiddling with the bow. “So, are we heading out?”

xxxxx

He’s not prepared for the wave of heat that hits him when the huge crimson doors open and the drawbridge lowers. The sounds of the Nether are accompanied by the iron chains clinking and the creak of the bridge as it slowly cranks down to hit the edge of the blackstone bridge with a heavy thud. Sapnap inhales sharply, he’s been inside for over two weeks (roughly at least, it’s tricky to measure time here), and while he’s been able to peek out from windows and holes within the Bastion walls, venturing out really reminds him just how vast the Nether truly is.

He presses closer to his husband’s side as their party makes their way over the bridge. The stomping of the piglins’ heavy boots makes the wood shake, a vibration that makes his stomach lurch. He fixes his eyes on the other side, trying to not to think they’re only on a slab of wood over a deep chasm. 

Sapnap lets out a relieved exhale when he steps down onto the firm blackstone, glancing back to look up at the Bastion towering behind them. It feels so strange to feel fondness and familiarity with a place he’s supposed to be wary of. He huffs out a little laugh to himself, he’s never been too attached to the little houses he’s built in the Overworld. He doesn’t like living all alone and tends to take any excuse to invade his friends’ house. The Bastion feels oddly more like home than anywhere he’s lived before. He shakes the thought off with a bemused smile, he really needs to get out more.

Led by a pair of piglin brutes, they make their way through a gap in the netherrack, Sapnap blinks as the party is cast into shadow, inching closer to his husband. It doesn’t feel like the path that he was carried through that first day, it's not as steep and they don’t pass a gap with lava. 

Sapnap glances at his husband and remembers how he was flung over the piglin’s shoulder. He doesn’t know why that memory creeps back every now and then. His cheeks burn and he averts his gaze, he doesn’t like how much his brain is fixated on the memory of the piglin adjusting his grip on his thighs and _other places_. He’s luckily jolted from his thoughts as they reach the end of the crevice and they climb up uneven rock steps to find themselves in a crimson forest.

His husband snorts gently, larger hand brushing his and Sapnap doesn’t hesitate before taking it. He’s forgotten how eerie the crimson forests sound; the distant echoes of ghasts, creaking sounds and something that could be the wind, or wailing. The mist that hangs over so much of the Nether is tinted red and only the light of the shroomlights and the more foreboding lava cut through it. 

Their feet scuff over the nylium, his husband’s boots crunching louder as they make their way through the forest. “So when we met, were you out gathering stuff like this?” Sapnap turns to the piglin who’s scouting the area, eyes narrowed. 

The piglin blinks at him before he nods, answering with a snort that ebbs into a squeal. He gestures towards the edge of the forest where red bleeds into cyan. Sapnap can see the patches of warped roots and twisting vines hanging down from the huge fungus that populate the warped forests.

“Guess I was just lucky then, to run into you,” he grins up at the piglin, adjusting his bow a little. “Race you there!” He spins on his heel with a laugh and dashes off towards the forest overlap. He’s not expecting the challenging snort his husband makes or the thunder of feet. He cranes his head and sees the piglin running after him, eyes full of mirth and a determination that makes his heart beat faster. 

Sapnap whirls back around just to see the mound of nylium in his path, too close to leap over. He yelps and lurches over them, ending up in a heap on the ground with an “oof!” His husband skids to a stop with a concerned sound and then the piglin crouches down, crawling closer. He tilts his head, staring down at him with worried little snorts and snuffles.

Sapnap laughs breathlessly, still panting from the run, “I’m good, don’t worry bro.” His husband relaxes a little with a laugh of his own but he doesn’t draw back immediately. Sapnap can’t help noticing the position they’re in, the piglin is practically on top of him and he feels his cheeks flush, his palms sweating where they’re pressed to the ground. The piglin is so close, eyes roaming his body and he knows it’s just to check that he’s really not hurt but, it still sends a shiver up his spine. The butterflies in his stomach are going crazy and his heart feels like it banging against the inside of his ribcage.

The piglin huffs and gets onto his knees, offering him a hand. Sapnap swallows, laughing awkwardly and takes it. His husband’s palm is warm, though cooler than the air around them, though he notices vaguely that it’s a little wet with sweat. He doesn't have any time to ponder on it before the taller male is tugging him up. 

For a while they spend time collecting roots and the vines. Sapnap discovers there’s a knack to it and he lets his husband guide a small knife into his hands and show him, very gently, where and how to cut. It’s really nice, and even when he starts hearing the vwoops and soft delicate steps of enderman around them, he just shifts closer to the piglin and keeps his eyes down.

When the wicker basket starts getting full, the piglin stretches with a yawn. He gestures back the way they came and Sapnap nods, standing to stretch himself. He can’t help the satisfied little groan as his spine clicks, he’s been hunched over for too long gathering plants. He catches the piglin staring down and realizes that his hoodie and undershirt have ridden up, exposing his belly button and happy trail. 

He wheezes out a laugh and tugs his hoodie back down. “Hey do you reckon everyone else has finished?” 

His husband takes a moment to reply, hands clenching on the handle of the wicker basket so hard some of the dried vine snaps. He jerks, looking down and self-consciously loosening his hold. He lifts his head and shrugs a little, ears twitching as he smiles.

Sapnap raises an eyebrow at the crunch, peering around a little to see if the piglin had seen anything that might spook him. Not seeing anything but two endermen a little in the distance, backs to them as they vwoop softly to each other, he adjusts the quiver and bow and follows his husband back into the crimson forest.

They run into the rest of the party, or at last most of them as they make their way to where they’d come from. One of the piglins has found a gold chestplate abandoned and tangled in weeping vines and is excitedly showing it off, receiving jealous snorts in response. The sudden thought that it’s probably from a human who perished in the Nether suddenly hits him and Sapnap swallows, pressing closer to his husband’s side.

They’re all distracted by a loud snarl and whirl around to find, not too far away, two piglins fighting a group of hoglins. The piglins react immediately, dropping baskets and bags of gathered roots, mushrooms and vines and reaching for their swords and crossbows. Sapnap tugs out an arrow from his quiver, readying himself as he’s dragged along with the mob as they rush into the battle.

He tries to stay near his husband as growling piglins and piglin brutes clash with the hoglins, the air full of pained snorts when either land a blow. A hoglin barrels into the piglins nearest him and he grunts as he’s knocked to the floor, arrows sent flying out of his quiver. He scrambles to try and gather them up, the rough netherrack scratching up his palms as he hurries, trying to avoid being trampled as piglins dart around him, snarling and fending the hoglins off with their swords.

Sapnap gets to his feet, cramming arrows back into his quiver and then he realizes with a jolt that he can’t see his husband. He whirls around, gripping his bow hard and then he sees him. The piglin has been driven up an incline by two hoglins and is growling back at them, pinging arrow after arrow from his crossbow. Sapnap rushes towards him, watching the hoglins inching up the hill. They’re wounded, bleeding from the many arrows that stick out of them like a pincushion, but they’re still stubbornly out for blood.

And then the crossbow jams, and the sound of the fighting around them becomes background noise to him as he watches his husband struggle with the weapon, eyes widening as the hoglins see their chance. Sapnap feels fear and an uncontrollable rage sweep through him and he throws himself between his husband and them, bellowing, “Get away from him!!!”

He’s lucky that the arrow he hits the hoglin with in the side of the snout throws it off it’s course by just enough to not hit him full on. Nevertheless, he’s caught by the creature's vicious tusks, the material of his hoodie tearing as he’s flung sideways. He hits the ground with a pained grunt and ignores the pain in his ribs as he scrambles up, hands shaking as he tries to ready another arrow.

The hoglin has jerked around and is stalking towards his husband. The piglin drops the crossbow and makes to fight barehanded, claws outstretched as he snarls. There’s a pained squeak from behind them and Sapnap chances a glance to see a stray arrow has killed the second hoglin. He turns with his bow raised, yelping himself when the hoglin charges and knocks his husband flying, the piglin rolling onto the ground with a sickening thud.

Sapnap sees red and for a moment it feels like the world grinds to a halt around them. All he can feel is rage and desperate need to kill the mob. He fires arrow after arrow, his fingers stinging as the arrows and string bite into them, his movements clumsy in desperation. The hoglin slows in it’s charge, breaths ragged as it staggers and then finally, it keels over.

Sapnap pants, his legs shaking so much he’s afraid he’ll collapse. He drops his bow and runs to his husband’s side, breaths harsh. The piglin has dragged himself up, one hand wrapped around his chest and the other pressed to the ground for balance. Sapnap falls to his knees, hand gently cupping the piglin’s cheek. “Bro, are you okay?!” he can’t keep the fear out of his voice, the hoglin had thrown him _so hard_.

His husband nods with a pained grin, eyes looking a little dazed. He keeps his arm wrapped protectively around his torso but his free hand reaches out to press his fingertips to the side of Sapnap's forehead with a worried snort. The touch stings and Sapnap lets out a pained hiss, reaching up himself to find a shallow gash in the skin, his fingers coming away bloody. “Ow, well that’s not great.” When the piglin gives him a panicked look he chuckles, “nah don’t worry, it’s a tiny cut, I’m good I think? What about you?” he gestures down to where his husband is still holding himself.

The piglin gently holds out his free hand, and Sapnap’s stomach clenches oddly when he sees his own blood on his fingertips, and he wiggles his hand in a ‘so-so’ motion. Sapnap huffs out a breath, feeling relieved, “I’m gonna take that as hurt but not gonna die yeah?” The piglin laughs, though it holds a pained tinge, especially when it turns into a cough.

They’re interrupted by a chorus of excited snorts and they turn to find the rest of their party doing the celebratory dance, arms outstretched and heads bobbing. Sapnap grins, happy to see they hadn’t lost many piglins in the skirmish and he reaches around to help his husband get up. He helps the piglin to swing an arm around his shoulders, stomach clenching at the pained sound his husband lets out. “Lean on me dude?”

The piglins, those that weren’t too injured at least, stashed their weapons back into their inventory before retrieving the baskets of gathered plants. Sapnap helped his husband down the hill, staggering a little himself. The taller male was a little heavier and his body was pretty beat up. His own chest aches, the cut on his head stinging and he knows he’s going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.

The walk back to the Bastion is hard going and the sight of the towering blackstone makes Sapnap’s heart soar with joy and relief. He’s still so worried about his husband, the piglin keeps making pained little grunts and gasps even though he’s obviously trying to hide them. There’s a high chance he has a broken rib or two which isn’t so bad on it’s own, but the extent of the fracture and whether an internal organ is pierced could make it very serious.

As they’re crossing the bridge to get back into the Bastion, a ghast floats into sight. Sapnap almost freezes in fear. He’s unarmed except for his quiver and he can’t run or duck or else he’ll hurt his husband. The flying mob’s eyes glance down and Sapnap winces, expecting the wail and the roar of a flameball.

The large creature rakes it’s eyes over the mob for a moment, and Sapnap feels like his heart will rattle right out of his bruised ribs. And then it floats on and he breathes a sigh of relief, following the rest of the party back inside. A piglin brute takes one look at the state of his husband and gestures for his quiver so he can support the injured piglin with both hands easier.

They’re ushered towards the apothecary’s workshop, Sapnap has only been to the workshop once and he mostly just peered in the door while the apothecary and his assistant examined a patient. He helps his husband sit on a pallet, padded with a hoglin hide, wincing in sympathy at the choked sounds of pain the piglin makes. He kneels next to him, holding his hand tight as he looks over at the apothecary assessing the injuries of the party before turning to the shelves that span a large chunk of the wall.

The shelves are filled with potions and ointments, the magic within the concoctions shimmering and swirling endlessly within the glass of the bottles and jars. A cauldron and brewing stand are close by and Sapnap gulps when his eyes raise to see metal instruments hooked along the wall, they look pretty terrifying he’s not gonna lie.

He turns back to his husband, squeezing his hand a little reassuringly. “Hey, you okay?” The piglin leans into him, giving him a soft look. He shrugs with a pained grunt before he squeezes his hand back. Sapnap feels his heart beat a little faster as his husband tilts his head a little, ears twitching, eyes still fixed on his face. 

They’re interrupted by a loud snort, the apothecary kneeling down next to the pallet. Sapnap shifts over to give him room but he doesn’t let his husband’s hand go. The piglin reaches for his husband and presses his hands to his chest. His husband yelps and Sapnap feels him grip his hand tight. The apothecary lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a tut, shaking his head a little before reaching into his inventory. 

He produces a bottle of healing potion and gestures to it with a series of snorts. His husband nods and takes the bottle gingerly with his free hand, claws clinking against the glass. Then he brings it to his lips and Sapnap doesn’t know why his eyes zero in on how he wraps his mouth around the rim of the bottle. He feels his cheeks redden, breath catching a little as the piglin drains the bottle, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Swirls of magic appearing around his husband are a distraction. The piglin gasps as the potion sets to work on his ribs, the pinkish glow focusing on his torso as it mends the broken bones and the bruised flesh encasing them. He slumps back a little, eyes glowing from the effect. The worse the injury, the more potent the healing potion needed to be.

The apothecary grunts in satisfaction before he turns to him. Sapnap holds up his free hand, grinning sheepishly, “I’m good bro, I just got pushed around a little.”

The piglin fixes him with a firm stare that brooks no argument. Sapnap swallows and leans back a bit as the piglin reaches out and starts examining his torso. He jolts when he realizes he can feel the clawed fingers on his flesh, as though there’s almost no cloth there- Sapnap looks down and yelps. His hoodie has almost been torn to shreds, large tears gouged into the thick cloth and even a little into the black undershirt he wears.

He shudders when he realizes how close those tusks had come to breaking the skin. The apothecary hums, his palms pressing into his ribcage firmly and almost knocking the wind out of him. Seeming satisfied that he doesn’t have any broken bones himself, the piglin tugs a small jar out of his inventory. He scoops out a little on his fingertips and Sapnap jumps with a hiss when he tugs up his shirt just enough to allow him to rub the ointment into his chest.

He feels hands gripping him from behind, and his husband makes a soft growl. The apothecary snorts, sending the piglin behind him an unamused stare, as he presses more healing ointment to the gash on the human's forehead. With another huff, he slowly removes his hands and gets to his feet. He goes to the cauldron to clean them, leaving them alone. Sapnap adjusts his shirt and what remains of his hoodie. He sighs forlornly as he runs a hand over the large tear, which has obliterated the flame print. His husband shifts until he’s next to him and he makes an inquisitive sound.

Sapnap swallows and tries for a laugh but it’s too strained to sound mirthful. He can feel the magic working on his skin, the flesh tingling pleasantly and he sighs again. He offers the piglin a sad smile, “I uh,” he looks down at the hoodie once more and he’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline wearing off or just the torn cloth that’s making him feel choked up. 

“When I first left home to go adventuring with my friends, I didn’t know how to use a loom,” he pauses to explain, “it’s something we use to make clothes in the Overworld… and my friend Dream said he’d make me something super cool.” He does laugh then, though there are tears brewing in his eyes, he misses his friends and the damn hoodie was precious, it had become his thing, “the fire design is just a thing, but it kinda became my symbol I guess? It reminds me of good times.”

His husband rubs his back comfortingly and he leans into him. The piglin smells reassuring; musk and leather. Sapnap tilts his head back, meeting the taller male’s gaze, “I’m really glad you didn’t die bro, don’t do that to me again yeah?”

The piglin laughs and nods, pointing at him with an amused snort.

Sapnap barks out a laugh of his own, “what, me? Yeah sure, I won’t die dude, don’t sweat it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I’m sorry to start on such a negative note but I feel I need to address something;  
> I got a comment saying that this fic may have been mentioned in a donation during one of Sapnap’s streams. Please do not contact the content creators like that, it is stepping over their personal boundaries, especially when it’s shippy or explicit fanworks. I implore people to please not do that and I’m incredibly sorry to Sapnap if he was sent a donation like that.
> 
> Sorry to start off so negatively, thank you for everyone leaving kudos and such nice comments and being so patient in waiting for an update, I appreciate all of you ^v^

Sapnap swallows hard as he folds what remains of his hoodie and shirt and stashes them in their chest. He shivers, his body has adjusted to the heat and it’s tricking him into believing there’s a chill against his bare skin. He’s honestly pretty touched that his husband just gives him access to his chest, the piglin has a stash of gold inside and Sapnap knows just how precious that is to the mob. 

Sapnap stretches with a yawn, his back cracking a little. He’s still feeling stiff from the run in with the hoglins, healing potions could mend a great deal but there were limits. He reaches for the folded leather draped over the chest next to theirs, his husband had pulled out a spare tunic for him to wear. It’s surprisingly soft and big, the piglin is taller and broader. It ends up falling a little low over his pants, almost to his knees.

He yawns, stretching. It must be nearing ‘midday’, he’d refused to get up that morning, whining and mumbling sleepy protests. His husband had patted him at first with soft insistent grunts but eventually had huffed out a laugh and ruffled his hair affectionately before leaving with the rest of the group. His stomach flutters and he adjusts his bandana, cheeks reddening a little as he recalls claws doing the same the night before. 

Sapnap hums as he saunters down the hallway, shucking up the oversized tunic so he can shove his hands in his pockets. He barely needs his makeshift map now, at least for the halls he frequents often. The lanterns cast a cheery gold light through the corridors and he can hear the distant clangs of the kitchen. His stomach rumbles, reminding him that he missed breakfast and he picks up the pace a little.

He’s almost to the dining all when a hand grabs his shoulder gently. He yelps in surprise and whirls around, stepping back just a little on reflex before he realizes it’s his husband. The piglin blinks at him, ears twitching and then he snorts out a familiar laugh. He’s left his gloves in the forge but left his apron on, the heavy leather dotted with dust and ash.

“Hey! You scared me dude!” Sapnap tries to sound indignant but his mouth keeps twitching up into a grin. He slips his hands out of his pockets and gestures to the dining hall door. “Wanna go ea-”

He’s interrupted by a hand taking his and he can’t keep the small sound of surprise inside as the piglin draws him into a side corridor. “Uh?” The piglin keeps a hold of his hand, casting a quick look around before turning back to him.

Sapnap opens his mouth, about to ask what’s up when his husband averts his eyes, free hand digging into the pocket of his apron. And then the piglin meets his gaze shyly, a light flush across his cheeks as he offers something wrapped in parchment. When the human doesn’t take it immediately he presses it into his palm with a little huff.

Sapnap stares down at the folded parchment in his palm, whatever is inside is heavy and is a little wider than his hand. He carefully unfolds the parcel, breath catching when he reveals a gold belt buckle, beautifully crafted into the fire symbol he’d had on his hoodie. The flame points have been sanded down to make them a little less sharp and engraved into the metal are tiny intricate details to make up the flames, creating depth and the illusion of them moving. 

For a long moment he’s frozen, crafting something like this must have taken the piglin hours, days even. It’s so precious. He feels a surge of joy and gratefulness, a bubble of warmth that explodes inside him. He looks up at the taller male, finding him still looking a little nervous, and hopeful, obviously trying to gauge his reaction. Sapnap feels his throat get tight, he can’t express how touched he is.

He doesn’t remember reaching up and tugging the piglin down, just that suddenly he’s pressing his lips to his, feeling the press of soft lip and hard tusk against his mouth. He draws back after a moment, heels hitting the ground and hand still on the piglin’s shoulder, the other clenching the buckle protectively. He breathes out a shuddering breath, cheeks red hot and he finds his husband blinking down at him, his own face flushing.

A hand strokes his cheek and he feels his heart flutter in his chest, breath catching again when the piglin leans down. Sapnap tilts his chin up a little, lips parting, his body tingling a little in anticipation. And then his husband pauses, drawing back a little to press a little nuzzle of his snout again his forehead with an embarrassed grunt. He straightens and pats his shoulder, face still reddened and ears twitching before he makes an almost garbled-sounding series of grunts, gesturing back to the dining hall.

Sapnap is frozen in place and he knows his face must be beetroot at this point. He carefully presses the buckle into his pocket, managing to choke out a “thank you.” He’s a mess of confusion and  _ deep _ embarrassment and honestly frustration. 

He manages to swallow it down a little, still flushed all the way to his ears as he follows his husband into the dining hall. His throat feels tight, stomach clenching a little and he wants to demand what the hell just happened but he’s nervous too. And the piglin looks just as lost as he does, his clawed hands actually shaking as he takes a bowl of stew.

Had he messed up? Was it forbidden or something, considering he wasn’t a piglin? He tries to distract himself from his thoughts with his own steaming stew, and manages to burn his tongue for his trouble. He whimpers a little and a hand presses to his shoulder, a familiar concerned snort making him turn. His husband gives him a once over, looking worried and he offers him a weak little laugh, “I burnt my tongue.”

The piglin looks relieved, and he gestures for Sapnap’s spoon. He lets him have it and can’t help chuckling when the taller male actually scoops up some stew and blows on it for him. “Hey! Don’t patronize me Sir, I’ll-” he’s cut off by the spoon being pressed to his lips and he gives the piglin an unimpressed pout before wrapping his lips around the spoon.

His husband flushes a little before offering him a little snort of approval. Sapnap huffs a little amused breath and goes to take the spoon. The piglin lets him take it but then catches his hand. He blinks, holding the spoon between thumb and forefinger as the piglin gently uncurls his little finger and hooks his own around it. Sapnap looks up to find his husband looking oddly remorseful. It feels like some kind of apology.

Sapnap swallows, his throat tight and he’s not sure what to say. He’s not even sure what the other is sorry for. “Hey do you have a belt I can put the buckle on?” He offers the piglin a soft smile and his heart beats faster when the other lights up. “I love it, like seriously love it dude.” He can’t help going red himself, stomach fluttering again at the happy glint in the piglin’s eyes and the excited squeal he makes. 

xxxxx 

Sapnap doesn’t mind the envious snorts he gets from the other piglins around their sleeping quarters when his husband helps him fasten the belt around his waist. The gold buckle glints in the torchlight and reflects the piglin’s claws as he slips the pin through the black leather. Sapnap can’t help the slight shiver that runs through him at the feel of the taller male pressed to his back. He’s a little disappointed when he draws back.

Usually the piglin would reach into their chest for his gloves and apron, and he often snorts questioningly and gestures to see if Sapnap wants his bag or his map. Today he doesn’t give the chest a glance however, simply nodding towards the door. Sapnap furrows his brow in confusion and then as he looks around he notices none of the other piglins have donned their workday garb. 

He follows them, rather perplexed as they head down to the dining hall as normal. It’s a type of gruel for breakfast, ground roots boiled in water and it has a bitter edge to it. Sapnap’s found himself getting used to the more limited flavor palette however and he just slurps it down. His husband chuckles at him and when he sets down the bowl the piglin reaches over to brush a little of the gruel from around his mouth. 

Sapnap ducks his head with a flustered chuckle and wiggles a little closer. “So, I’ve noticed you haven’t got your gloves and stuff today? Not going to the forge?”

His husband drains the last of his bowl and swallows before shaking his head. He presses his claws to his lip as though pondering how to explain something before he huffs out a frustrated snort. 

“Hey don’t sweat it bro, maybe you can show me instead?” Sapnap offers him a smile, gripping the table edge a little. The piglin looks relieved and nods emphatically before he starts to stand. The piglins around the room are stacking their used bowls, snorting excitedly. There’s a bubbling joy in the atmosphere of the room, the mob moving faster to clear their tables and leave the room.

Sapnap follows his husband to join the throng, curiosity rising as rather than dispersing to their various workstations, everyone heads towards the stairs that head deeper into the Bastion. He’s never ventured down this far and he’s not sure if the walls are thicker or if it’s just that there are fewer gaps in the walls but it actually feels a little cooler.

They reach a corridor and he sticks close to his husband as they walk through, he tries to peer around but it’s hard to see much through a crowd of piglins that are a head taller or more than him. He does spot an open door with what looks like a tannery, a group of piglins working around iron vats of water. The far wall is open to the Nether, only thin iron bars separating them from the elements. There’s a strong and rather unpleasant odor and he has to resist covering his nose. Then the door closes and the group moves on.

He’s truly not expecting the wide room they come to. Just as vast as the dining hall, the chamber is taken up mostly by a bath cut into the floor. He blinks in shock at the steaming water, mind boggling at it. And then he realizes it’s  _ iron _ , the entire bath is made of iron, like a gigantic cauldron. Around the sides of the room are benches made from warped fungus, the aqua a stark contrast to the blackstone of the walls. 

He allows his husband to tug him over to a bench. What appears to be most of the Bastion have joined them, there’s a noisy excited bustle. He notices the librarian and the piglin that must be his spouse (he can see the earring glinting in his ear) talking in the corner and he wonders why the librarian is still wearing his work clothes. 

His husband huffs to get his attention and he turns to find him unbuckling his belt. The piglin snorts happily before he starts tugging his tunic up over his head and Sapnap finds he can’t pull his eyes away as the piglin’s torso is revealed. He swallows, face getting hot and his palms sweating as the taller male folds the material and sets it on the bench. 

He’s pale and surprisingly hairless, his muscles not defined but still obvious as he moves. And- Sapnap feels his breath catch just a little and he has to avert his gaze, gripping the material of his pants to ground himself. The piglin’s nipples are pierced, small gold bars that stand out against the dusky pink of his nipples. He feels eyes on him and with another hard swallow, he starts on his own belt and tunic.

He sets the tunic and belt on the bench, sitting down to tug off his sneakers and socks. His husband snorts out something that sounds questioning and he dares to look up. The piglin has kicked off his boots and is only in his shorts and he gestures worriedly to the golden buckle. Sapnap tilts his head, “huh?”

With another huff, the piglin cups his cheek and gently coaxes him to turn his head. Sitting on the edge of the bath are the gaggle of baby piglins, all kicking their clawed feet in the water and giggling. He makes the connection with a knowing soft laugh of his own, “oh yeah, they uh, like to collect gold don’t they?” 

His husband reaches for his belt and it disappears from his hands as he stashes it in his inventory. And then his claws hook into his shorts and Sapnap looks away, eyes wide as he blushes hotly. He’s not sure if it’s better or worse that they’re not alone and surrounded by piglins in varying states of undress as they get ready to hop into the bath.

Sapnap notices he’s being given some odd glances and realizes with a start how odd he must look to the mob. He ducks his head, hands reaching up to undo his bandana self consciously. He’s hairy, a little on his chest and a happy trail that leads all the way down and on his legs too. His husband gives a questioning grunt besides him before patting his shoulder and he watches his shins and feet go past as he walks towards the bath.

With a shuddering breath he stands and does his best to swallow the embarrassment as he shoves his pants and underwear down. It’s a relief at least that he’s certainly not the only one naked and he can try to pretend no one is looking at him.

Still he keeps his hands over his crotch as he hurries over to the bath and clumsily crouches down to slip in. He gasps, gripping the iron edge of the pool, it’s really hot, almost hot enough to hurt. He looks around to find his husband and shyly shuffles over, hissing as the water reaches more of his sensitive skin.

It’s not too deep, the water level just above waist height. His husband is scrubbing at his arms and shoulders and Sapnap bites his lip, eyes inadvertently roaming over the piglin’s torso again. He tries to distract himself by taking a gasping air and ducking beneath the water. The heat hits him again, burning the insides of his nostrils and his eyes and he comes out gasping and coughing. His husband squeals and shoves the sopping wet hair out of his face, giving him a very concerned look.

Sapnap coughs out a laugh, “I’m good, sorry.” He brushes the water from his face, feeling a droplet clinging to the tip of his nose. He tries to scrub more water into his hair, god now that his body is starting to adjust to the temperature it feels incredibly good to scrub away weeks worth of grime and sweat. And hot water is a  _ luxury _ , it’s tricky to warm enough for a full bath in the Overworld (Dream, George and him usually only do it when travelling through cold biomes).

“I wish I had some soap, my hair is so gross right now, ew,” he had noticed how greasy it was becoming, but he’d just tried not to touch it too much. His husband hums thoughtfully and he pauses to watch him reach over to a box by the baths edge. He pulls out a handful of twisting vine leaves and gently submerges them before rubbing them in a circular motion into his palm.

Sapnap leans closer and raises his eyebrows when the leaves start foaming, leaving an almost sweet scented foam on the piglin’s palm. He leaves the crumpled leaves on the edge and motions the human closer. Sapnap shifts closer and swallows as he’s turned around, his husband pressed almost against his back. He’s suddenly very very aware that there’s nothing between them except water. Clawed hands press to his head carefully and experimentally start rubbing the foam into his hair. 

He can’t help melting, the piglin is gently massaging the soap into his scalp and sending tiny tingles down his spine. The noise of the room seems to melt away, the snorts and splashes and everything zeros down to the feel of his husband’s hands and how close they are. He arches a little into the touch with a contented moan and the piglin lets out a soft but rather startled sound, moving back a little.

Sapnap blinks with a confused hum when the fingers give one last rub before falling away. He opens his eyes and shivers, he doesn’t remember closing them. He turns to find his husband washing his hands off in the water and when he notices him looking, the piglin flushes and turns around a little, splashing water onto his face and scrubbing.

Sapnap finds his eyes trailing down that broad back, from the shoulders to where the water is lapping around his waist. He notices a corkscrew tail beneath the water and is distracted by how cute that is before his eyes take in the curve of the piglin’s- he coughs and huffs out an embarrassed breath, turning himself to duck under the water again, scrubbing at his head and pretending he wasn’t just eyeing his husband’s ass. Which was decidedly pretty fine from what he could see but  _ still _ …

He’s squeezing out the water from his hair, droplets splashing into the water of the bath when a bell goes off. The piglins freeze, snorted conversation coming to a stop as the ringing continues and Sapnap straightens to see the mob are all looking to the ceiling or to the door. A piglin brute appears at the doorway and snarls, and Sapnap realizes with a start he can read that there’s a concerned warning in it, not just aggression.

There’s a sudden flurry of activity as piglins start hurrying towards the baths edge, housting themselves out and rushing to their discarded garments. Sapnap yelps as his husband tugs him out of the bath and over to their clothes. There’s a serious sense of urgency as they struggle to pull their clothes back on over wet skin. Sapnap forgoes his socks entirely and winces at the feel of soaked cloth against his skin. He manages to get his bandana on, tying it clumsily before he’s steered towards the door.

The bell is still ringing and as the group hurry up the stairs he’s wracking his brain to think of what in the Overworld might be going on. All he can think about is a raid, but as far as he’s aware those don’t happen in the Nether. The Piglin’s enemies are withers, wither skeletons and hoglins and he doubts any would approach a Bastion. The only ones who tend to invade a Bastion are other humans.

As the group makes it into the main part of the Bastion, Sapnap can pick up more than just the bell. Piglin brute snarls and crashes and shouting and-

“Let us go you pig assholes! We’re wearing gold! We  _ gave _ you gold! You attacked us out of nowhere!” 

Sapnap rushes forwards, pushing his way through the crowd. He’s still holding his husband’s hand and the piglin stumbles behind him, snorting in confusion. Near the entrance of the Bastion, struggling against the hold of a group of piglin brutes are Dream and George. Dream is yelling bloody murder and biting at the arm holding him, and George is trying to wrestle his sword back from a brute.

The elder piglin leader is snarling and directing two armed brutes towards them. Sapnap yells out a panicked “WAIT!” and the group freezes, all turning towards him.

Dream and George’s eyes go wide, the latter’s mouth gaping. Their response is almost eerily in sync, “ _ Sapnap _ ?!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait, I had awful writer's block and was in bad headspace for a while.  
> Thank you for all your comments my gosh, you're all wonderful and so sweet and I'm so happy you're still enjoying this!
> 
> Shoutout to my sweet datemate for protecting my ass in Minecraft and also giving me a bunch of help with this chapter and cheering me on when I struggled <3

Sapnap feels droplets of water running down the back of his neck from his damp hair and an overwhelming mixture of confusion, joy and fear grip him. He’s frozen for a long moment before his legs move almost involuntarily, jerking forwards with his hand outstretched. “Hey wait!” he can’t help repeating the yell, a little less loud with so many eyes on him. “They’re my friends.”

There’s snorts and snuffles of confusion around them and the elder leader actually looks taken aback, glancing between them. He snorts, waving his hand to stop the approaching brutes but his glaring eyes remain on Dream and George and he huffs warily. 

“Sapnap, what the _ hell _ ?!” Dream has his mask tugged to the side of his head and his nose is bloody. Other than that though, he seems unharmed. He relaxes a fraction, staring at Sapnap and he seems torn between disbelief and bemusement. “What are you doing here dude?”

“And what are you  _ wearing _ ?” George, paused with his arm outstretched for his sword, gives him a once-over with a confused smile.

Sapnap glances down, he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t wearing his normal hoodie, his husband’s spare tunic is soft and comforting. He shrugs, grinning a little, “I’ll explain all that later,” he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain anything, but he’s more worried about how angry the leader looks. He feels his husband squeeze his hand and chances a quick glance over his shoulder to the taller male. 

The piglin gives him a little encouraging nod, ears twitching and he turns, swallowing before addressing the elder directly. He tries for a disarming smile, “hey, can you let my friends go please? I can vouch for them, they’re good guys.”

The elder leader snorts angrily and gestures to the Bastion main doors and then to the familiar nether wart farm nearby. Sapnap can see that the crop has been crushed in several places and the gold is strewn about, some actually missing. He feels his stomach twist,  _ oh no _ . 

He turns to his friends, mouthing an emphatic ‘ _ what the fuck _ ?!’ before he brings up his free hand to clench the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. He meets the elder leader’s eyes and offers a sheepish smile, slumping a little, “okay, that’s- heh… I get why you’re mad bro.” He shoots a pointed look at his friends as he continues, “they’re going to give all the gold  _ back _ and help replant the nether wart, right guys?”

George rolls his eyes and agrees with a shrug, sounding practically disinterested. His eyes are still on his diamond sword but he’s no longer struggling in the brute’s hold. Dream takes a longer moment to agree, eyes glancing to the large Bastion doors and then around to where he’s completely surrounded. Sapnap knows his friend is working out how easily they can run. But even though he really hates admitting defeat, Dream’s anything but stupid and with an irritated sigh he also nods, gritting out a “yeah, sure.”

The leader seems to think about it for a long moment, surveying the damage to the farm once more. He snorts at the farmer who is gathering up trampled warts and the disgruntled piglin squeals in reply. He turns back to Sapnap and nods, seeming satisfied with the deal. The wizened piglin approaches his friends and scrutinizes them both before he finally grunts to the brutes to let them go. 

Dream and George jerk away as quickly as they’re able, George still glaring at the brute with his weapons and Dream folding his arms, still obviously annoyed at the whole thing. Sapnap allows himself to let out a deep sigh, squeezing his husband’s hand. The piglin approaches his side and glances between him and his friends curiously.

The elder leader addresses the crowd, tone reassuring and he directs the mob to return to their activities, all except their small group and the brute soldiers. The rest of the piglins who’d been bathing turn back to the stairs, snorting and huffing to each other. Sapnap is glad for the dry heat, he’s already starting to dry and the discomfort of damp cloth and leather against his skin lessens.

“I have so many questions,” Dream’s voice is full of bewilderment. He’s swiping at the drying blood on his face and giving Sapnap a once over before he seems to fully register he’s holding a piglin’s hand. His mouth falls open and he gapes for a moment before grinning, eyes crinkling with bemused mirth, “what no hug or anything dude?” He saunters closer, arms outstretched in invitation.

Sapnap snorts out a laugh and lets go of his husband’s hand, ready to give his friend a hug but they’re interrupted by two brutes intercepting. The piglins snarl threateningly, standing between them and giving Dream a wary look. His friend backs up a little with his hands up, shooting him confused glances through the gap between the two brutes.

Sapnap freezes, arms falling a little and he takes a step back himself, hoping that will calm the brutes. A hand presses to his shoulder, clawed thumb tip brushing the bare skin exposed by the too-large collar. He turns a little to find his husband glancing between him and Dream. The piglin lets out a soft distressed snort, ears twitching as he tilts his head.

There’s a loud harsh squeal and they all turn to find the elder leader is gesturing them all to follow. The brutes push closer, obviously ready to use force if needed. The one who’d been bitten by Dream is rubbing his reddened arm, eyeing the masked man warily. Sapnap clears his throat, giving his friends a slightly uncomfortable grin, “just follow him, come on.”

xxxxx

Sapnap hasn’t been inside the elder piglin’s chamber since that first day. It’s still rather chaotic, the table littered with parchment, books and ink. Sapnap eyes the ink well, he’d wondered what the piglins used for ink until he’d watched the librarian fetch a pestle and mortar one day and carefully crush charcoal and a little water until he had enough to fill a bottle. It seemed thicker than squid ink, but worked well with the brushes the mob made from hoglin bristles.

He’s jolted from his thoughts as George bumps into him. The room feels rather crowded with them all squashed inside. The elder makes his way around the table and presses his clawed hands to the surface, giving them all a deep look. And then he tugs out a new sheet of parchment and begins writing. 

“What’s he doing?” George whispers to him and Sapnap snorts a little, turning to his friend. With his anxiety over them being harmed waning, he’s starting to bubble with joy at seeing them again.

“Probably writing down a contract for you guys to sign, he’s very official like that.” He meets the leader’s gaze across the table and the elder piglin actually offers him a grin before he goes back to his cursive. Sapnap feels an echoing grin tug at his lips before he notices a tiny detail he hadn’t previously on the wizened piglin. There’s a long-healed scar in his ear from a torn out piercing. He presses a little closer to his husband without thinking, not wanting to consider what that might mean.

The piglin leader finishes the parchment with a flourish and slides it across the table towards them. Dream takes it with a raised eyebrow and shuffles closer to George to let him read. After a minute he looks up, “wait, we have to be unarmed at all times? What if we get attacked?” He shoots a pointed glance at the piglin brutes around them who huff in response.

“You won’t be, if you don’t attack them first,” Sapnap blinks at his own words, he’s surprised by how much he trusts the mob. And by the looks his friends are giving him, he’s not the only one.

The leader grunts his agreement and then takes the parchment back to add an amendment. He tugs out the familiar little ink dish and pours in a little. Dream and George look over the contract again, George reading the amendment aloud, “we will keep your weaponry safe for the time of your stay and return them upon your leaving. You shall also be accompanied by two guards at all times. This is for the protection of our tribe, especially our young ones. It shall also protect you from agitating any piglins before they are given word of your stay.” He shrugs, adjusting his goggles a little, “yeah that seems pretty fair to be honest.”

Dream frowns and rereads the parchment once more before he sighs, sounding exasperated when he replies “yeah sure, we agree. Also we’re taking Sapnap when we leave-”

“No!” Sapnap shrinks a little when his friend turns to him before he straightens and levels the taller man with a firm look. He feels his husband pressing closer to him, a soft protective growl under his breath. “I’m not... going yet, I’ll explain later okay?” 

The piglin leader snorts and bangs the table once to get their attention, a little of the ink splashing out onto the parchment. Sapnap swallows, he really doesn’t like the looks his friends are giving him, like he’s some kind of stranger. He croaks out, “he wants you to sign the parchment with your fingerprints.”

He can practically see the questions mounting in the expressions his friends have, but they manage to hold off while they sign the contract and with a little more hesitance dump out the gold from their inventories. It clunks and thuds as it hits the table top and Sapnap is stewing internally on the thought of how in the Overworld he’s going to explain everything.

“So,” Dream stretches with a yawn, back cracking a little, “I guess we head back to help Mr farmer pig, let’s get this over with.” He looks over to George, the shorter man attempting to wipe the ink off his finger unsuccessfully. “George?”

George looks up and shrugs, “yeah I’m coming.” He glances at Sapnap, eyebrow raising when he looks at his husband again, “Sapnap you’re going to have to show us the way back.”

Sapnap chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah this place is kind of a maze.” He jerks his head towards the door, he’s honestly bursting with questions himself. His husband squeezes his hand a little and he shoots him a grin, tugging him towards the door. 

A few brutes follow them as they make their way through the hallways, garnering curious looks from piglins that are working. Sapnap glances over at Dream, who’s shifted closer to stand next to George, “What are you guys doing here? Were you after pearls to get to the End?” 

“What are  _ you _ doing here? We got back from travelling and we were gonna stock up on supplies, you know, to go after the dragon? But like, your house was deserted and your crops had withered away like you hadn’t been there in weeks and we panicked? So we were searching all over for you and finally came to the Nether and have you literally been here this whole time?!” Dream’s voice grows steadily louder, his hands moving rapidly.

“Sorry dude,” Sapnap fiddles with his ear, the hard press of the metal ring soothing. He feels awful, damn his friends must have been pretty worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d abandoned a house though. “I just meant to visit the Nether to get some pearls, and then..” he trails off and glances at his husband, cheeks reddening just a little when the piglin tilts his head, “I got a little held up.”

“You’re avoiding the question Sapnap,” George drawls, yawning again. “What’s up with the piglins? Can you understand them now or something?”

Dream glanced back at the brutes, inching forwards a little away from them, “and why are they protecting you?” He pauses for a moment before continuing,”and why haven’t you just left?”

“Stop giving me that weird look,” Sapnap sighs a little in relief when they find themselves back at the farm. He’s stalling and he hopes replanting the crop will be a bit of a distraction. “Hey did you know striders taste finger-lickin’ good?” He waves at the nether wart farmer and the piglin gives him a quizzical look in response. He makes his way over, turning to his husband with a sheepish laugh, “sorry about dragging you out of the bath early.”

The piglin shrugs, snorting bemusedly, he gives his friends a glance and moves a little closer, ruffling his hair gently. Sapnap leans into the touch before he fully registers the looks he’s getting. 

He ducks his head a little and coughs, “so we should plant this nether wart right?” He can’t help the flush on his cheeks.

“I’m so lost right now, “ Dream’s voice is confused, tinged with mirth and some level of exasperation. He keeps sending him incredulous looks as George approaches the farmer for seedlings and bone meal. “ _ How long _ have you been here Sapnap?”

Sapnap brushes his husband’s arm with his fingertips. The piglin is quiet, as though he’s assessing the situation. “Uh.. a few weeks I guess? It’s hard to tell in the Nether.”

He takes some of the wart from George, grinning sheepishly at the immediate “What?!” his answer receives from them both. “Sapnap you’re going to tell us everything,” George shoots him a glance, stooping the plant some seedlings and sprinkling bone meal over the top.

Sapnap sighs and starts replanting some of them himself, “yeah yeah I will, we’ll find somewhere to sit and I’ll explain stuff alright?” The soul sand sticks to his skin, clinging to his fingers before falling much slower than sand ever should. “So, what have you guys been up to? You were gone for forever!”

Dream wheezes out one of his breathless laughs, clapping his hands to get rid of the sand as he stands. “We went all over, we were exploring all these islands right George? And we found three abandoned portals, and a jungle temple and Sapnap, we found so many sunken ships I swear.” 

“We also found this uh.. settlement I guess? A bunch of really cool people. So we ended up staying with them and built a little house, maybe we’ll go back there I guess?” George hands the remaining bag of bone meal back to the farmer and stands. He’s looking around the Bastion curiously, shoving his goggles up to the top of his head.

A familiar bell rings out and Dream and George jump. Dream whirls around trying to see where it’s coming from, “what the hell is that?” 

Sapnap feels his stomach rumble as if on cue and he grins, hearing the sound of footsteps as the mob start making their way to the dining hall. “It’s dinner time dudes!” He shrugs, “there’s no day or night in the Nether so they have like, a schedule I guess? Everyone wakes up, eats, works and sleeps around the same time. It’s chill, you guys hungry?” He rucks the leather tunic up, bunching it awkwardly so he can stuff his hands into his pants pockets.

“Yeah, I could eat.” George lights up a little, the guy gets ridiculously feral over food after all. Dream slings an arm around his shoulder, grinning himself and nods.

xxxxx

“So, are you gonna introduce us to your friend or not?” Dream speaks around a mouthful of roasted hoglin, pointedly pretending to ignore the mixture of curious and wary looks he and George are getting.

Sapnap swallows his own mouthful, exhaling hard. He can’t exactly avoid talking about this forever, and he is being pretty rude by not introducing them. He glances to the side, up at his husband who’s sipping on some vine tea. The piglin’s ears twitch and he snorts softly as he meets his gaze. Sapnap taps on the table and turns back to his friends with a sheepish grin, they’re going to think he’s joking. “This isn’t my friend, he’s my husband.”

For the second time that day he receives an almost synchronous “WHAT?!” from his friends. Dream seems frozen for a moment, mouth gaping before he slaps the table and bursts out laughing. George is goggling at him in total disbelief before he snorts out a bemused laugh.

Even though he expected this kind of reaction, it still doesn’t make him feel any less mortified, Sapnap ducks his head. He’s painfully aware of the entire dining hall staring at them and his husband pressed next to him.

Dream tries to talk, words broken up by his laughter, “wai-wai-wait… mind saying that again Sapnap?” He wipes a tear away from one eye, still wheezing.

“He’s my husband, I…” Sapnap laughs a little himself, ignoring the fresh burst of laughter he receives and the half-confused chuckles George lets out. Rubbing the back of his neck, he takes a deep breath and continues, “Guys come on, I’m serious. So about like, three weeks ago I was running about the Nether trying to get pearls? And I ran into this dude, “ he jabs his thumb at the piglin, giving him a little smile, “and he was giving me so much good stuff that I kinda.. joked I wanted to marry him.”

He lowered his voice a little on the word ‘joked’ knowing just how volatile the reaction he’d received when he’d used it in front of the elder leader. His husband’s mug clunks to the table and he winces a little. “Well marriage is a pretty sacred thing to these guys so, they brought me here and I was told it was basically that ‘breaking an oath of marriage warrants death’ or something.” Dream’s eyes go wide and his wheezing turns into a surprised half-laugh half-snort. “But this guy said we could make a deal, I’d be his husband for a month and after that if I wanted to leave I could.”

The piglin snorts affirmatively behind him and ruffles his hair affectionately. His friends are starting to crack up again. “So I signed a contract and got this,” he points to his earring, “and yeah, I’ve been staying here ever since.”

Dream wheezes, almost dislodging his mask as he brushes hair out of his eyes, “you got married?! Sapnap what?! WHAT?!”

George leans closer, eyeing the piglin, “what’s his name?”

Sapnap blinks, glancing between his friends and his husband, “uh..” 

“ _ Sapnap _ , you  _ cannot _ be telling us you married someone and have been living with him for weeks without even knowing his name?!” Dream thumps the table and chokes on a fresh burst of laughter. He wrestles with that a moment, George joining him with quieter chuckles before he gasps and tries to calm himself. He turns to the piglin, “what’s your name?”

The piglin shrugs and lets out a short string of snorts, sounding something along the lines of ‘eh uh gh’ . Sapnap furrows his brow and tries to copy the specific inflection of the snorts and his husband squeals excitedly, nuzzling his forehead and making him flush, grinning up at him. He notices George mouthing something incredulously to Dream but he’s a little distracted by the press of a clawed thumb stroking his cheek for a moment.

Sapnap coughs and breaks eye contact, gesturing to his friends, “these are my friends from the Overworld, the green one is Dream,” he leans towards his husband with a conspirately loud whisper, “and the one with dorky goggles? That’s George.”

“Hey-” George has started on another plate of meat and mushrooms, pouting at him.

“So uh, nice to meet you-” Dream tries to replicate the snorting sounds and reaches out a hand. The piglin tilts his head and warily pats his hand, huffing softly. Dream chuckles and takes his hand back. “I’m impressed you’ve put up with this dumbass for so long without kicking him out.”

The piglin presses closer to Sapnap with a low rumble that sounds oddly offended. Sapnap feels his hand sneak around his waist, holding him protectively. His cheeks redden before he coughs and puts on a mock-hurt tone, “I’m hurt Dream, is this why you and George left? You just couldn’t stand me?” He can’t keep the last few words getting wobbly from a badly-suppressed laugh.

“Yes,” George speaks with his mouthful, tone completely deadpan. 

Dream wheezes, “George, come on.” He leans back and stretches, “nah we just explored further than we ever have before, you should come with us next time Sapnap.”

Sapnap yawns, pressing back into his husband’s torso. “Yeah maybe,” his tone sounds a little off even to his own ears and he tries to brush it off with a laugh. He’s never been very good at analyzing his feelings but he’s feeling.. weird. Why does it feel so jarring to think about leaving?

The dinner is winding down, the piglin servers beginning to collect the plates and bowls from each long table. In pairs and small groups the mob are slowly trickling out, no doubt on their way to their hammocks. His husband pets his back, tilting his head with a questioning little huff. Sapnap nods with a bigger yawn, accidentally leaving a little spit on the back of his hand as he does so.

“I don’t know where you’re gonna be sleeping-” Sapnap starts, turning towards his friends and smiling fondly when he finds Dream with his arm around George, deep in a soft discussion about something. “Fair warning there’s going to be another bell in a minute for bedtime.”

Sapnap grins when the bell sounds out, rather proud of himself for how close he’d gotten. And he’s so used to the ringing that it’s almost a surprise to see George actually cover his ears, yelling over the sound, “how many bells  _ are _ there? And how do your ears still work?!”

As the bell comes to a stop, Sapnap scrunches up his nose a little as he thinks, counting on his fingers, “uh.. Wake up, lunch, dinner and bed? So four? And there’s like the one when you guys showed up so, I guess the humans-are-breaking-our-shit bell makes five.” He laughs and reaches almost unconsciously to find his husband’s hand.

The piglin snorts and gestures to the doorway, regarding him fondly. He feels those familiar flutters in his stomach and he can’t help giving the taller male’s hand a quick squeeze. And then he notices the two brutes gesturing from the doorway.

The brutes follow them towards the bedrooms, watching Dream and George warily. Sapnap gives a tiny wave to the baby piglins as they’re carried into another bedroom, a few of them already fast asleep. His husband ruffles his hair and copies his wave, letting out a soft amused snort. 

When they turn into their own bedroom, Sapnap is surprised to see a new hammock erected next to theirs, almost squashed against the wall. “Hey this is your bed,” his words are warped by a yawn and he gestures blearily towards the hammock to his friends, eyes squeezing closed as he yawns hard. 

“There’s only one?” George fiddles with his goggles, brows furrowed. Dream is distracted, blinking around the room at the piglins snuggled in their own hammocks. THe few not asleep yet gaze back at him warily and the brute with the smaller piglin husband growls threateningly at him, clawed fingers petting his spouses back. 

Dream backs up, hands raised to show he means no harm. He hesitates before he turns, tilting his head at the hammock, “we don’t get our own?”

Sapnap rubs his eyes, “you guys are a couple right? Share dude.” He shoots them a sleepy grin and reaches out his arms for his husband, the piglin huffing gently as he tugs him into their hammock. Sapnap rests his cheek on his husband’s chest, chuckling a little as he watches Dream and George attempt to climb into their hammock.

It takes them a while, whispered and hissed curses and they both manage to fall out (George twice) but eventually they end up snuggled in the hoglin skin. “I hate this,” George is sprawled over Dream, one arm up over the other’s shoulder and a pout on his face. Sapnap grins to himself when he sees Dream wrap an arm around George, making him melt a little.

xxxxx

Sapnap stirs, blinking sleepily as the morning bell rings out. He lays there a moment, rubbing his cheek against the soft leather of his husband’s tunic with a little yawn. He can feel the piglin’s heart beating under him and he sighs contentedly when a clawed hand strokes over his hair, tucking strands behind his ear. Sapnap raises his head lazily to meet the piglin’s soft gaze, ignoring the shifting and snorts from around the room as the rest of the piglin’s awaken.

And then they’re both jolted by a loud yell and a heavy thump. Sapnap turns to find Dream on the floor, rubbing his hip with a wince before he looks back up at George. “Hey, you pushed me out you jerk!” 

George blinks, goggles all askew on his head and brown hair a mess, he was probably woken up with a start like Sapnap had that first morning. He chuckles and shoots Dream a lopsided grin, “well, you  _ were _ hogging the whole hammock anyway,” when he receives a rather rude response from Dream he stretches and drawls out a “crybaby.” 

There are disapproving snorts and huffs from around the room, the piglins giving the two humans, especially George, glances that indicate they take a dim look at his actions. The smaller piglin with the brute husband actually tut-tuts softly before he goes back to straightening his husband’s collar affectionately.

Sapnap rolls out of their hammock, landing on the floor with relative ease from practice. He reaches out a hand almost immediately to help tug his husband up. The piglin wiggles his ears and brings his hand up to nuzzle it briefly before letting him go. He brings his hand back to his side, feeling the skin tingle and his heart race. His husband, to his surprise, reaches down to give Dream a hand and tugs the human to his feet.

“Thanks man, I appreciate it,” Dream gives the piglin a nod before he goes back to George. Sapnap knows their banter is just affection, George is especially cagey about his feelings and tends to express them in jokes. 

He leans against the nearest chest as his husband opens theirs. His hands fly to his hair, trying to smooth it down a little and sort out the bandana. What he wouldn’t give for a comb, he feels so much more conscious of his appearance with his friend’s here. The piglin straightens with his apron and gloves, and carefully balanced on top-

“Oh dude I forgot! Thanks for keeping it safe,” he grins at the sight of his flame buckle and his husband huffs out a laugh before he gestures him closer. Sapnap offers to hold his apron and gloves and he allows the piglin to wrap the belt around his waist. His hands are soft, adjusting the black leather and tightening it just enough that it won’t fall. Sapnap watches his hands, larger than his own but ever so careful with him and his cheeks heat up just a little.

Almost too soon the taller male draws back and offers him a soft smile. Sapnap grins back and reaches for his shoulder, ushering him to bend a little so he can help him with his heavy apron. He leaves the gloves for now, the piglin doesn’t like to eat in them. 

He glances over to his friends, George is down from the hammock and busy adjusting his shirt and stretching. Dream is giving them an odd little smile though, leaning against the wall and tapping his fingers on the blackstone. Sapnap offers him a shrug and an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he makes his way to the door. “So, breakfast?”

xxxxx

“Oh my god is this strider meat? It’s so good?” Dream speaks through a mouthful. The breakfast that morning was fried mushrooms and thin strips of fried strider meat, similar to bacon. The masked man swallows his mouthful and tabs another piece with his fork. “You really weren’t lying.”

Sapnap snorts, savoring his own mouthful. “What, you thought I was lying? Dream, I would never lie.” He wheezes at his friend’s expression, the falseness of his solemn tone is obvious. 

“Unrelated but I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s with the belt? And where’s your hoodie?” Dream’s lips quirk into that weird little smile again for a brief moment as he glances between Sapnap and the piglin next to him, before easing into a familiar lazy grin.

Sapnap can’t help glancing down at the gold buckle, heart fluttering as he rubs his thumb over the surface lovingly. “Damn you should have seen me Dream, we got in a fight with hoglins and I destroyed those guys,” he grins and feels a snorted laugh from beside him. He rubs the back of his neck with a laugh of his own, “hey! I did kill one!” he turns back to his friends and puffs his chest, “I’ve got mad skills. My hoodie got torn to hell though, so…” he swallows, cocky grin melting into a softer smile, “he like, crafted this for me.”

There’s a soft snort from the piglin and when he glances over he sees his husband fiddling with his meal, his cheeks oddly flushed. He nudges the taller male with his elbow gently, giving him a lopsided smirk, “I’m snazzy now! He’s a talented guy, aren’t you?” Sapnap feels his heart beat a little faster when the piglin’s ears start twitching and his face goes even more pink. His husband can’t seem to meet his eyes and Sapnap opens his mouth, ready to insist the guy take the compliment when George interrupts him.

“You’re a blacksmith or something? That’s some detailed work there.” George adjusts his goggles, squinting down at Sapnap’s waist. The piglin takes a deep breath and nods, turning towards them. George smirks and leans back a little, “that’s good, ‘cause Sapnap tends to break stuff a lot.”

“Hey-!” Sapnap sends his friend a scowl, hunching over a little in his seat.

Dream lays a hand on his shoulder with a soft laugh, “George be nice, he breaks stuff  _ sometimes _ .” He steals a slice of strider meat from George’s plate, making the brunette pout. “Oh I was gonna talk more about the settlement we found? It’s a real weird bunch but they’re friendly, there’s one dude though, this kinda political-ish leader named Wilbur? He’s so dramatic or whatever, but I like him.” 

Sapnap takes in how animated his friend is, hands moving rapidly as he speaks. “You gonna settle there huh?” Dream and George have a house near his own back in the Overworld, they’d worked on it for months, there’s a secret basement with passages that lead to his smaller house and all the way into a mineshaft they’d discovered while mining. They shared crops and animals and would sit watching the sunset while fishing.

His friends had been mentioning missing their more nomadic lifestyle before they settled in that location though, when they’d travelled through villages and through the Overworld and been meeting new people and having adventures. So he's not that surprised that they want to leave for somewhere new. Still, the idea of leaving for anywhere makes his stomach clench anxiously. Sapnap tries to swallow it down, “that sounds cool, I-”

The bell signalling the end of breakfast rings out, interrupting him (though honestly he’s not sure what he had been going to say). As the last chime of the bell echoes, the dining hall fills with the noise of plates being stacked, the shuffle of feet and snorts as the remaining piglins ready for their daily activities. 

Sapnap hears his husband get up and he turns to find him standing still, gloves in his hands and glancing between the door and his friends. The piglin seems... worried. Sapnap frowns, wondering if he doesn't fully trust the other humans yet and doesn’t want to leave him alone. He gets to his feet, yawning a little and stretching.

“Hey, you good?” He moves closer and reaches out to pat the piglin’s arm. His husband meets his eyes and his head tilts a little, a soft huff his only response. Sapnap snorts out a little laugh, “hey I’ll be fine yeah? I’m just gonna show them around a bit and then meet you for lunch.” He realizes he’s petting the piglin’s arm and he draws his hand back with a blush and a slightly embarrassed laugh. 

His husband exhales, the one ear with the bitemark twitching as he slowly pulls on his gloves. The piglin casts one last look at his friends and at the two familiar brutes waiting by the door for them. He turns back to Sapnap and nods, a hand reaching out to brush his cheek and the gold ring in his ear. Sapnap can’t help the way his stomach flutters or the way he leans into the touch a little. 

“So uh, see you later yeah?” His grin is a little wobbly, he feels all tongue-tied. His husband pats his shoulder and nods, snorting gently as he walks towards the doorway. Sapnap offers him a wave and settles his hands on his hips, he misses his pockets. “So, wanna have the grand tour?” he grins at his friends.

xxxxx

The brutes follow them through the halls as they make their way around. Sapnap is surprised by how well he knows his way around now, he doesn’t even need to drag his self-made map out of his inventory. He shows them the main areas and describes some of the daily life of the Bastion. He’s reminded, as they peek into the library, of the last time he’d been there. He flushes a little in mortification, incredibly glad the librarian isn’t anywhere in sight. He hasn’t been back there since but he does miss the calm atmosphere.

Dream and George ask him a bunch of questions and he does his best to answer them. Sometimes he finds himself turning to the brutes behind them to confirm if he’s right. They’re more receptive to his questions, offering him sharp snorts and nods, rather than the silence when Dream and George attempt to engage them.

“Oh yeah, there’s stuff down below too, like a leather mill and a giant bath.” Sapnap runs a hand along the blackstone wall behind them, they’re paused by a gash in the wall that opens to the Nether. He barks out a laugh when his friends whirl around to interrogate him.

“Sapnap, that’s  _ water _ , you get that right? We’re in the  _ Nether _ .” George raises an eyebrow, tone a little taunting, like he’s dumb.

He can’t help scoffing, internally a little gleeful that he can one up George. “Yeah but the piglins have worked out how to use iron to summon large quantities of water.” He gestures with his hands to try and convey how large the bath actually was, “guys you have  _ got _ to see the bath down there, it’s huge, I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Out of the corner of his eye he notices movement and Sapnap turns to find two baby piglins peering at them curiously from around the corner up ahead. He smiles and waves at them and the smaller one gestures at his friends and then beckons at them, squealing excitedly. Sapnap chuckles, “you want us to come over huh?”

The brutes follow them very closely as they approach the children. Dream takes notice and hangs back a bit, grabbing George’s arm to keep him close. The group of baby piglins are drawing with chalk again and Sapnap squats down so one can hand him a piece of chalk. 

The baby piglin snorts and points to his friends with a clawed finger and he glances at his friends with a grin. “Oh yeah! These are my friends, the ones I told you all about.” He cups his mouth and mock-whispers to them, “hey I told them you’re cool, do something cool guys.” 

Dream wheezes out a laugh and moves closer, kneeling down himself. He glances back to check the brutes are still calm before he outstretches his hand, palm up. “Pass the chalk Sap,” When he has it in his hand he regards the children, all regarding the two new humans in curiosity and excitement. “Did Sapnap tell you about the dragon?”

When the baby piglins shake their little heads, their ears twitching adorably, his friend chuckles and starts drawing on the floor. None of them have much artistic skill, but Sapnap will grudgingly admit Dream’s rendition of a dragon isn’t half bad. They’ve only gotten to the End a few times and they’ve never defeated her. 

Dream starts explaining what a dragon is and starts detailing their adventures in the End. George interjects at points, kneeling next to him and adding the towers and end crystals. Sapnap watches as they recreate the End, grinning as he notices the gaggle of baby piglins move closer to watch. 

His friends bicker a little over who did what whilst telling the story and Sapnap leans back against the wall, grinning at them. A baby piglin toddles over to him and and gestures to his head. He leans down curiously and little clawed hands pat at his bandana. He unties it with a chuckle and offers it to the child, who immediately starts trying to wrap it around their head.

Sapnap snorts out a little laugh and reaches out to gently tie it properly, minding the baby piglin’s ears. The child squeals with joy and rushes over to the piglin brutes, who have made their way over and are kneeling very close to where Dream and George are to keep an eye on them. They soften a little when the little one clambers on top of them, the ends of the bandana swinging in the air as the child tries to clamber up to one of the brute’s shoulders.

“Dream,  _ what _ are you doing?” George’s amused voice distracts him and Sapnap turns to look. He can’t help barking out a laugh himself, Dream has two baby piglins sitting on his back as he crawls about on all fours, making dragon-ish noises. It’s both hilarious and adorable.

He remembers the brutes a moment but when he glances to check on them he finds them, still kneeling, observing warily but without any hostility. He breathes a sigh of relief and watches Dream jokingly wobble, making the children squeak and grip his green hoodie tighter before they snort out little giggles.

He brushes the hair out of his eyes and presses his hands to the floor. “Hey, hey Dream, imagine if there were two dragons?” The remaining baby piglins, watching excitedly for their turn on the strange green human, turn to him with happy excited squeals and snorts and he can’t help laughing as George rolls his eyes at the both of them.


End file.
